You Walk Out That Door Sammy
by xFangtasiax
Summary: Features 2 OC's working within WWE, interactions with Randy Orton. Sam's trying to make her way in the WWE, trying to keep a steady relationship with a Superstar, but will his self destructive behaviour ruin them both?
1. Chapter 1

**You Walk Out That Door Sammy **

_You walk out that door Sammy.._

And she can't come back. She knows. Hasn't she been told enough [censored] times she can't come back? Right between grunt and the heave the sofa makes when he throws himself onto it. Staring at the line of empty bottle necks and the way his hand swings low to touch the ground as he lies there. Pretending like he's not watching her reflection in the television screen. Alcohol scents the air, sloshes back and forth when he takes another sip of another bottle. He stinks.

"Dont give me that crap Don" she warned, grabbing some of the bottles together. They clinked and jarred against her hand. "You know I hate when you wrestle & you go out afterwards with the guys, stay out all night in hookers' bars and think I don't notice. This is just the same. Maryse invited me to her hens' night & unless I show up, she'll be a mega b*tch queen from hell on Raw" Sam said, running frustrated hands through the hair like midnight. The one platinum blonde streak hanging over her left eye fell forward and obscured her view of Don tossing the bottles' cap up into the air, catching it with the other hand. He spoke without moving."This ain't the same Sam and you know it. You'll come home b*tching a blue streak about them and how crap they made you feel" he stated, dropping one leg off the sofa. The blue denim clad leg hit the floor and made her jump. "And I don't go near no hookers' bars. I told you that sh*t yesterday. That kinda stuffs' old hat for me you know?" He sits up suddenly, the couch creaking under his weight. Sam stopped, stared at the broad expanse of back before her. Don's wearing a white wifebeater, stark against the tan of his skin. He half turns so she can see one golden eye and the angry, curling eyebrow above it.

He laughs, a grumbling, growling sound that has her stomach on edge and Sammy's leaning casually against the sofa, wanting to run her hands through the messy dark hair and knowing if she tries Don'd shift away, grunt at her. "I told you. I don't need hookers to get me what I want" Sammy snorts, "Yeah. You walk outside and women flock to you" Now Don snorts, sculling the last of the vodka in the bottle. "Can I help it being this good looking? Thats why you love me" he commented easily, but theres' a weight to the words as she hunts for her stilettos. "Well it couldn't be for your all male scent babe can it?" she replied, finding them and binding her feet into them. Maryse said 6 and its already half past. God help her if she has to sit next to Maria and talk banal crap for more than 5 minutes. "Cause you stink of alcohol" she added, bending down low over the sofa to kiss the top of his head. Don shifts, reaches up with one muscled arm and tugs her down using her one. Knocks her head over heels so she lands awkwardly on his stomach. "Tell 'em to get stuffed" he suggests, a Brooklyn drawl heavy in the summer heat of the afternoon. "Frickin' Maryse. Some hens' night. The grooms' holding his own funeral" Sam relaxes onto him, places her hand on his warm shoulder and looks down at him. "You know I'd rather stay here" she says softly. Don holds her gaze for a long moment until she says, "But your vodka fumes are giving me a headache" His mouth twitches for a moment and then its' gone. She feels his stomach go rock hard under her as he tenses. He places a hand on her back. Enough. He's had enough. Time to stand up. Sam stood, smoothed down her jeans once more, adjusted the plain t shirt she had on. That wasn't what she'd planned to wear at all. She'd had this really pretty dress lined up but Don had seen it and well...well her thighs still itched from the scratch of his beard stubble.

"I'll be back before midnight" she said. "Try not to be out with some floozy" Don held up a hand , scratching at his whiskers with the other one. "Hell honey I'm not out with you tonight" She punched his shoulder, hard. He barely flinched but chuckled roughly. "I have the grooms' shindig" he reminded and Sam covered her mouth. Of course. She'd nearly forgotten. "Oh yeah. Can you please try and be nice to Randy Orton for me?" she asked, leaning over the couch so he gets a good eyeful of the goods in the low cut t shirt. Don ran his tongue over his lips, arched an eyebrow and fought a twitch in his lips as he replied, "Randy Orton? Which ass is he again? The muscled one with no talent or wait....let me get it...the muscled one with no talent?" Sam laid a hand on his belt, meeting the suddenly heated eyes. "He has talent. And he's my tag team partner. So if you could refrain from giving him two black eyes like you do most of my male friends I'd be much obliged" she quipped.

Her mobile began to buzz insistently, Maryses' number showing up. "Crap. I gotta go" she told him, taking the outstretched hand and holding it tightly until she could hear Maryse on voicemail screaming at her. Sam let go and left him to it. 


	2. Chapter 2

By midnight she's back at the apartment, bored out of her skull. She had a pounding headache from the music in the club & Maria's inane chatter. God, she really didn't care who was doing what to whom in the locker room but Maria seemed to make it her lifes' mission to find out everything. When she'd asked Sam if she knew Don had "kind of a drink problem', Sam had spat out her own drink in response, fighting the urge to feign ignorance and suprise.

It had been a complete bust. Maryse had been the centre of attention all night, all eyes fixed on the platinum blonde, who drank it up like she did every week on Raw. It was like watching a tv spot for 6 hours. Sam tolerated her, but having 6 whole hours of adoring Maryse time was enough to make her want to puke. When Maryse had suggested moving onto the most expensive, exclusive nightclub in the town, the other girls had screamed with excitement. Sam just wanted to scream. Cramming into some place with D list celebs was not her idea of fun. Being here listening to Maryse go on about how the man she was going to marry had so much money he could use it for tissue paper was also not her idea of fun. She wanted to go home. And she wanted Don. She wanted him to be stretched out in the armchair, wanted to relax back against his knee, his hand in her hair and watch some old black and white comedy. She didnt want to be here. So she'd cried off when Maryse had suggested it, made out like she had an early start in the morning, air kissed the blonde and thanked her profusely for inviting her. Knowing that as soon as she left the room Maria would talk about her and Don. But she couldn't care less.

So she'd come back here. To the empty apartment, Don was still out, a scrawled note signed with a 'D' on the table. Sam folded it up, slipped it into her journal and took herself into the bedroom. She kicked off her shoes and slouched back on the bed. An early start beckoned her – training with Randy Orton for their match tomorrow night on Raw. But, if she was being honest and since the man himself wasn't in the house, Sam could have done with Don next to her. Could have done with his comments about how he'd told her it would be waste of time and she should stop associating with the rest of them cause she was better than them. But he wasn't here and Sam was left doing what all women do, comparing themselves. She curled up on the bed, snapped open the spine of her favourite book and skimmed through the words, thinking about Maryse and her perfect, glossy life. It wasn't that she envied her the marriage part, Sam hated the idea of a wedding and Bridezillas filled her with honest to God fear. It wasn't the groom, one of the WWE's mid card guys. Someone Don could beat in any area, any day of the week. It was the certainty of knowing the man you live isn't about to self destruct. Don's drinking left her wondering that night after night. Reliving the tales the guys in the back told her, thinking about the other WWE guys she'd seen end up on the bottom of the pile because their livers packed in around the same time their lives did. And wondering how she was going to bring him out of it. If anything could bring him out of it.

Drifting in and out of the book, her mind on Don, she almost missed when he crash landed through the door. Sam could hear Randy's curt tones, like he was holding his irritation in check, as he helped Don through the door. She got up and went to the bedroom door, finding Randy propping Don up. He was knock down drunk, the fierce eyes dulled with the alcohol but still that smouldering kind of blurry she loved. He raised the bottle in his hand towards her by way of greeting. Randy followed his movement. "Hey Sam...you shouldn't have to see this" he said, giving Don another irritated, pointed stare. She shifted so she had both hands on her hips, "Randy. I've seen it a million times before, don't start giving Don crap" she warned, watching him stand up straight and glare back at Randy. But the words out of his mouth weren't what she expected. Either Don's drink addled brain hadn't heard her right or he'd thought she said what Randy had said. "I'm sorry Randy. Apparently the ball and chain doesn't like me having some fun with the guys. Got her damn panties all up in a twist" he snapped, frowning at her. Sam folded her arms, "Don, thats not what I said and you know it" she replied, knowing as soon as she said it she should have just let him go until he sobered up. "Oh its not what you said?" he questioned, pointing the bottle at her. "Get this Randy, now she's backtracking on her story. Well woman..." and here he jabbed the bottle in her direction. Randy snapped the bottle back towards Don, grinding his teeth. He mouthed "You and I need words tomorrow" at her. She nodded briefly as Don continued on "I had just about enough of your shit. Fact is, I'm sleeping in here tonight. Wouldnt sleep with a cold, dead, frigid fish like you anyways" he barked, knocking open the door to the living room.

Sam could see him stood in the light for a second, all whiskers and shadowed eyes in the night. Turns so he can look back at her and for a split second she can see the fear in his eyes. The 'don't leave me' and she wants to go to him right then. The darkness clouds in and the moments gone, he's cracking his knuckles together and his voice is low down and dirty, kicks the door shut and leaves her with Randy in the hall.

"Sam" he says helplessly, throwing up his hands. "He's an ass. You can't stay with him" he warns, glancing towards the door, speaking low. Sam rolled her eyes, "Ive heard it before and I don't want to leave him. He's not an ass all the time" Randy shook his head, "No, he's an ass when he's drunk and he's drunk all the time. You heard him just now, coming out with that crap. You shouldn't have to cope with that Sam. You shouldn't have to hear it and you shouldn't have to see him stumble in like that" He jabbed a finger at the door, the tattooed arm firm, "What if he gets violent?" And she doesn't want to tell him he already did. Came at her one night with the end of a beer bottle and she ran like a hellhound to the end of the block, knocked on some old ladies door. Don came in the early hours of the morning, 3am, chucking stones at the window and calling out her name. Idiot knocked a hole through the woman's window and she'd leant out, cursing a blue streak at him. He'd started to laugh, stood there in a flowerbed, tears on his cheeks and Sam had laughed right with him. They'd gone home and thats when he'd told her half the story. Thats when she'd forgiven him. "He'll be fine Randy. You should go, we have an early start remember?" she says kindly. He looks tired, looks worried as he glances towards the door once more. "You're gonna be okay?" he asks. She nodded. "And you've got my number?" he added. Sam nodded again. He straightened and flicked his keys out of his pocket. "You and I are gonna talk tomorrow Sam" he warned, turning on his heel and shutting the door quietly behind him.

Sam took one look at the closed lounge room door and decided to go back to bed. Don's words had stung more than she'd shown Randy and as she closed the bedroom door behind her she sighed, wiping back tears from her eyes. She rubbed them away with the back of her hand and settled into the bed once more. She wasn't cold and frigid and he knew that. He'd never say that if he was sober. Trouble was, he was hardly ever sober anymore.

She lost track of how many hours later it was, just that the black outside was streaking through with navy, when the bedroom door creaked open roughly, scraping on the carpet. Don stands in the light, all bleary eyed kind of snuffly sleepiness. Gives a loud cough. When she makes no move to sit up from her position in the bed, he knocks her ankle. "Sammy? You awake?" She props herself up on her elbows. "I am now aren't I?". He rolls his eyes and comes to the side of the bed, sits on it. It creaks under his weight, sags where he is. He has black bags under his eyes, smells of vodka, his hair is mussed and his skin creases in the tan. He gives a sighing rumble in his chest and she watches his knuckles rub together as he hunches over. The colour of his eyes deepens when he looks over at her. "Sammy..." and his voice is a little boys. She scoots over in the bed, makes room for him. "Come on".


	3. Chapter 3

It's half an hour or so since he slid in next to her and she knows Don hasn't gone to sleep. He's laid there like a wall of stone, his breathing deep and even but Sam knows he's just staring at the ceiling. He can't find any peace. Don brings a hand up to his face, smudges underneath his eye. She can feel him shift in the bed, look down at her. Sam scrunches her eyes shut, then winks one open at him. "Your loud thinking is waking me up" she tells him. Don smirks, drops a hand down to her hair and smooths it back over her shoulder. His voice, when he speaks, is low and quiet in the still of the night.

"How bad?" And she hates telling him. Sam hates telling him what he was like or what he said because she knows that isn't him. It's hard to love an addict but she does it anyway, raising herself up on one elbow to look into his face. "You were okay" she says. Don rolls his eyes, wraps a heavy hand round each of her hips and lifts her up, places her over him so she's sat down across his stomach, hand resting on his abdomen. Sam looks down, watches his chest rise and fall under her hand, splays her fingers across his heart. It beats, slow and steady and she thinks about what the alcohol is doing to it. How he's slower in the ring, how he turns sometimes and she knows his mind isn't where his body is. Don's dying and there's not a thing she can do about it. She blinks the tears away and smiles weakly at him. "Sammy" he says and she can hear the pain in his voice thats breaking her, the roughness and the jagged pieces of glass in his throat. "What'd I say?" Sam tells him, tells him about Randy bringing him in, what Don came out with. She can feel the harsh, heavy sigh he gives, that moves her on his stomach. So she grins, chucks his cheek with her hand, "Nothing I haven't heard before D" she cracks. His eyes flash brilliantly, like diamonds in the dark as he turns his head her way, looks up at her. The hands on her hips smooth out, one tugs her down low so she's hunched over him, the other palms her ass. Looks up at the curvy figure over him. "He's right" Don says after a moment, strokes the small of her back with the backs of his fingers so she arches a little, closer into him, a mane of hair covering one side of Don's face.

Sam starts suddenly, hearing what he said. "He isn't right!" she insists, staring down at him. "He isn't right all. He doesn't know you Don, Randy's just another do gooder, another compassionate heart thats all mouth" And his own mouth twists. She never used to be so cynical. Sammy's always been tough, always been fiery and a fighter, but she was never cynical, never so beaten down looking in her eyes. And he knows he's done that. You beat a tiger enough times, eventually it lies down and dies. "Hell Sammy, this aint me" he promises, looks around. This run down, beat down shithole of a place he's brought her to. Maryse, the blonde tart she went to see tonight, hell she's getting married to some rich mid carder, gonna end up in a penthouse and Sammy here, Sammy here is in a cheap motel cause he kinda likes the way the beer tastes. This isn't what she deserves. And he knows it. Wants to sit right up and tell her that.

"Sammy" his voice is a growl and he chokes on what he wants to say. That he loves her. He loves her more than any goddamn thing in this world. If it was his life or hers, he'd have slit his own throat before Death uttered the first syllable. That she drives him crazy, makes him hard, she's his drug and all he ever wants, the only thing that calms the fucking nightmares that shake him is her. But he can't. He can't because the alcohol in his mind is burning, because he can feel the clouding in his thoughts, he can hear his own wheeze and he's disgusted with himself. 40. Beat down and fucked up.

Somehow, she gets him. Somehow Sammy hears and she's sat up, straddled across his stomach, poking it with her fingers as she talks. "Ignore him. I ain't going anywhere" she says. Looks away, looks out the window and says "I love you" because she knows if she looks at him when she says it, she'll tear up and he won't stand it. She doesn't know how drunk he is, doesn't know whether he'll turn right now or whether this is going to be one of the nights he tells the rest of the tale or whether its one of those nights where he just cries and she holds him. When's someone going to hold her? "I'm not going anywhere Don. So, just deal with it" she tells him pointedly. He splays his fingers across her stomach, tugs at the waistband on her pyjamas, slips a finger along the inside, smooths it against her skin. "Yeah?" he asks and his voice is husky, deep and dirty and he half growls and she laughs. "Yeah. So quit your bitching" she tells him.

Don flips her. Neatly and all in one, pressing her back into the mattress with all his weight. "So you're not moving?" he asks, a teasing tone buried there and his eyes glitter. "Nope" Sam says, fighting the smirk growing on her face. "Oh. Right. so not even if I do this?" he asks and digs fingers straight into her sides, tickling her. Sam squeals and wrenches underneath him, alternatively giggling fit to bust and trying to escape the tickles. She snorts and laughs, spluttering out giggles that shake her , make her eyes shine as he moves the tickling down her ribs.

Then as suddenly as she started laughing Sammy's crying. He can't stand it. Can't stand the way the tears swell in her eyes and she's bawling. Buries her face against the thick muscle of his forearm. "Hey Sammy...you know I don't mean any of that shit" he says, low over her, dropping his chest to hers and holding her to him. "Its not that" she tells him, turning tearstained eyes his way and he hates the way they change the colour. He hates the worried wrinkles creasing her eyes. "You're gonna kill yourself if you don't stop Don. You're gonna go and I'm gonna be left here without you".


	4. Chapter 4

Sam slammed Don's Viper into the parking spot and swore as she checked her watch. She was already 15 minutes late for hers and Randy's practice session. Her bones were already all kinked out of shape and she was almost asleep on her feet, fumbling and dropping the keys as she tried to lock the expensive car without scratching the paintwork. As she straightened up, feeling her back kink itself, Sam grinned. She'd take being late and facing Randy any day. Last night had been awesome.

When she'd cried, Don had frozen. She'd felt it right down his spine, a solid block of ice weighing her down. He'd looked away quickly. Couldn't stand the tears on that pretty face. Couldn't handle them. It wasn't right. Sammy shouldn't be crying, hell, he'd bust anyone up if they made her so much as blink a tear and now she was sobbing over him. After a moment, his gruff, rough voice had bent down, spoken right in her ear. "Come on Sammy..." he scooped her up in his arms, held her against the broad chest. "No-ones going anywhere honey. This ain't doing shit to me" he told her and she could see the tiny red veins in his eyes from the drink. Could smell the vodka on his breath, that slight tremor that sometimes showed up in his right hand as he laid it flat against her hip. "Stop cryin' darlin'" gripping her face between his hands. "Quit worrying. Suck it up" And she hates the flames of worry in his eyes. He has enough to handle. Sam had nodded and wiped at her eyes, Don's thumbs smoothing away the tears. He'd relaxed back on his haunches, regarded her for a long moment. All whiskers and roughed up hair as he ran his hand through it. "Come on", slapped her thigh, hitting the flanalette pj's with the back of his hand. "Get up. We're going out" She'd quirked an eyebrow, "Out? Don it's like 2am in the morning. I have to train with Randy tomorrow" He'd made a yapping motion with his hand, "Quit your yapping and come on. We're going bowling". Her mouth had dropped on. Sammy had a secret. She loved bowling. Loved it like fat kids loved cake. The alley, the uncomfortable seats, the bright lights, the way Don'd slink out in the seat, stick long legs in the way and trip her up as she went to throw, then chuck his hands up like an innocent little boy. The way he'd throw the bottle's cap in the air, catch it in his other hand as he drank, watching her throw. And how he could throw ten strikes in a row with a cigar between his teeth.

He'd done it too. Taken her to the bowling alley in her pyjamas and all. He had loose tracksuit pants on that kept sagging low round his hips, some ratty wifebeater she kept begging him to throw out. Dark aviators, throwing a peace sign to the half asleep attendant as they walked in, acting like some kind of A list celeb. Sam hadn't been able to stop laughing. Her favourite place, with her favourite person there had cheered her up. Don had known just what to do. Later, when she started to lean back against the machine and yawn, Don had pulled her onto his lap, hand on the small of her back, bringing her lips to his. Caught her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged. That low sound in his throat that made her curl against him, pulling up the faded vest she was wearing, snorting with laughter as she giggled and halfheartedly tried to fight him off. The attendant had eventually come over and told them they were scaring the G rated family over the other side of the alley. Don had stood, folded his arms, cracked his knuckles. All muscles and menace, leant casually against the seat. Cracked one dark eyebrow. "They were that g rated son, they wouldn't be in the alley at 4 am".

They'd ended up in her car, Sammy curled into his side as he drove, fighting to keep the blurry eyes open. He'd been so goddamn drunk they never made it inside the motel, crashed out in the parking lot. Don with his head back against the seat rest and Sammy curled in his lap.

And now she was late. Crap. Very late. Sam crashed through the gyms' doors and looked around for Randy, finding him sat in a seat on his own, hunting through his gym bag for his phone. His profile looked annoyed, the brilliant blue eyes shadowed. "Randy!" she yelled, running over to him. He stood, folding his arms and she was reminded of Don when he was pissed. Sam skidded to a stop and Randy's eyes widened in suprise. He held out a hand, "Hey...Sam, its okay" he said. She looked scared to death all of a sudden. That prick. It cut that Don could have someone as bubbly as Sam scared of him folding his arms. "I'm not gonna try anything" he promised, resting his hands down by his side. He ran his eyes over his tag partner. Sam's hair was in the messiest bun possible, the kohl under her eyes was smudged, she was yawning widely into her hand and crinking out her back. She wore low slung black tracksuit pants that were obviously Don's, too baggy around the hips and a loose t shirt. But the light in her eyes and the smile she gave him now made him smile back.

"You look kinda rough Sam" he commented, indicating they should hop in the ring. "Yeah, I kind of slept a little rough" she admitted, "Hey, Don's gonna swing by later" she added, sliding into the ring. Randy paused with one hand on the ropes for a long moment. She turned and caught him wrestling with the emotion wanting to run riot on his face. "You have a problem with that?" Randy nodded, "Yeah. You know I do. But I wanna run through some of tonights' moves with you before I talk to you" he told her. Sam ran her hand back through the bun mistrustfully. She was dog tired, she didnt need someone ripping Don a new one right now.

It was a complete bust. Sam missed Randy calling for an RKO because she was yawning. She missed his clothesline and ended up on the floor because her eyes were closing. Randy threw his hands up and inwardly cursed Don for the 16,000th time. Sam was too tired to do anything. She was asleep on her feet, weak and mumbling apologies. "Sam, this is ..." Randy sighed. "You shouldn't have come" Sam blinked awake and looked at him, narrowing her eyes. "Shouldn't have come? Why not? I'm just a little tired Randy. I'll be fine tonight. I just need some sleep, thats all. You know I'll be fine tonight" He nodded. He did. Sam would pull it together at the last minute and pull off an amazing performance. She'd had plenty of practice at doing it, and that was the brunt of his problem. Sam had plenty of practice at pulling things together at the last minute because her boyfriend was an alcoholic. Don always had something going down, some kind of temper, some kind of issue like the time he'd been twitching and freaking like someone high on ice, when in reality he'd just mixed vodka and red bull once too many. A guy approaching 41 the wrong way round shouldn't keep the same drinking he did, but Don was drinking himself into an early grave. And the little curvy , friendly, bubbly girl in front of him was holding onto his lapels trying to drag him back. "Sam, take a break" he offered, leaning back against the ropes. "You know how I said we had to talk?" Sam nodded, leant back against the ropes herself, looked across at Randy. "Please don't rip him apart" Randy rolls his eyes. 

"See? This is my point. He doesn't deserve you Sam. He's just an old guy drinking himself to Death and you can't stop him" Randy realised he'd gone too far when Sam's eyes glistened. She started to speak but Randy cut in first, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry Sam, I shouldn't have said that. What I mean is..." he looked around for something to explain what he wanted to say and finding none, he looked back at her. "Don drinks all the time. He's angry all the time. He beats up on you and we all know it happens. He talks smack about you in the locker room when he's drunk. I'm your friend Sam, I don't want to hear that. I don't want to see you turn up with a black eye cause you got in the way or asked him something when he was coming down. But thats what I see"

Don flicks the match between his fingers, lights the end of the cigar as he comes through the gym. Inhales and hears Randy's voice, urgent and fervent, speaking to Sammy. Leans against the half open door, blocking it with his shoulders. Holds the cigar in one hand, tilts his head. Sammy's leant against the opposite side of the ring, all that frickin' beautiful hair piling down her shoulders, her ass almost hanging out of his tracksuit pants. Drags his eyes away from her with an effort, focuses on the young pup talking smack. Inhales again as he listens to the words.

"I saw you last night when I brought him in. You were terrified he was going to snap and you'd end up copping it. You were too scared to go near him Sam. What kind of relationship is that?" Randy passed her the water bottle and sighed, "I know you'll be fine tonight. You always are. You're not fine when you go home with him though. Sam, I'm not knocking Don, I'm not. I'm worried about you". Don watches Sam come forward from the ropes, point a finger at Randy, "Like hell you're not knocking him. You have no idea what he's like!" she insisted. "Sam, wake up and listen to yourself. We all know what he's like. He's a drunk. He can't be trusted. He hits you when he's coming down" Randy points his own finger back at her, "I saw you Sam. You were twitching like a junkie because you were frightened shitless he was gonna flip". Don sees her shoulders sag as the truth hits.

He watches the end of the cigar burn so close to his fingers they singe, ignoring the pain in his fingertips. He'd been so out of it he never saw how frightened she'd been. He hears his own words, sees his little Sammy just taking the crap he'd been throwing. Burns the back of his throat worse than the nicotine he's been smoking. Watches Sammy, curves and all, as she speaks. "Thats between him and me. I don't need you sorting out my stuff for me Randy" She sighs, "I appreciate it, look I do. But whats between D and me, is between D and me. We're...I love him. I love him so much it hurts" Randy fought the urge to roll his eyes and instead said, "It hurts a whole lot more when you watch him drink it away huh?" Sam looked up at him sharply. She avoided the question, "I love him. And I'm not gonna stand around and let you lecture me about him. If we're going to be a tag team, Don's off limits. I don't lecture you about the skanks you come home with" she commented, neatly changing the conversation and making a joke. Its a habit she learnt fast with Don. See the warning signs and change the subject. Randy leans back against the ropes again, all long lean muscle and the tattoos on his arms showing. "Let me just say one more thing" he suggests and Sam looks unhappy. "When he's burnt his last bridge, come stay with me for a while. Nothing...you know. Nothing like that, just let me help" he asked.

"You can help yourself right on out of here you keep talking to her like that". Sam span around, her eyes lighting up when she sees him coming towards her. "Don!" she leans over the side of the ring, hanging over the ropes as he leans up, kisses her. "Hey darlin'" He slides into the ring and she loves how he rests back against the turnbuckle, jeans taut around the muscles in his thighs. The loose, tanned muscles as he runs a hand over his whiskers, cuts Randy a murderous glance. He's dark, even stood in the middle of the ring in broad daylight, shadows against his face and a glower in his eyes. Sam knows its Randy he's threatening but she can't help the thrill that runs through her when she watches Don, all muscle and menace.

"Are we going to practice then?" Randy asks, keeping an eye on Sam's face as she watches Don. He mistakes the attention she's paying Don for fear and decides not to cause anymore ruckus between them. God knows why she stays with him. Love, my ass. "What're you gonna pull tonight anyway Sammy?" Don asks, turns her way and his eyes are dancing. "Why? You got something for me?" He taps his crotch lewdly, makes her giggle and Randy's cheeks bulge out in disgust, "Hell honey I've always got something for you...nah, I gotta move if you really wanna gank the bitches tonight" Randy raised an eyebrow. "Randy" Sam said, trying to include him. Randy was one of her best friends and Don was the guy she loved him. Damn the pair of them if they didnt get on. For her sake. Sheesh, she didnt ask much. "We're gonna gank some bitches" she informed him and he couldnt help smiling. "Sammy. Listen to me now Sammy. Don't ever say gank again sweetheart. It don't suit you" She giggles, her face lights up and Randy sees what Don sees. It burns away at him. That asshole sees that whenever he looks at her.

Don stubs out the rest of his cigarette, pulls out a flask from his jeans pocket, waves it at Randy by way of mocking and rests it down by the turnbuckle. He takes hold of Sammy, stands her on the top rope and walks with her, holds her hand halfway around the ring like that. Randy checks his watch. Their match is hours away and Sam's tired. She's yawning on the top rope. But Don's just playing with her and she's smiling as she yawns, performing a neat hurricarana off the top rope and landing right on her boyfriend. He catches her easily, hardly moved by the impact. Slides his hands down her back, cups her ass inside the tracksuit pants. Sam giggles throatily, holds the long, heated gaze with one of her own.

The whole things a bust. Randy can smell the whisky on Don from here. He knows the idiot'll be blind drunk by Raw and then by the sheer grace of God Don'll wrestle perfectly, cause the asshole always does. Sammy's sliding out of his arms playfully, attempting to Russian Leg Sweep him. Don lets her and they both crash to the floor, where Randy has to look away. For the love off..they're in a public place. He coughs and Don looks up, narrows his gaze to pinpoints at Randy. "I'll meet you for our pre match dinner like I promised Randy" Sam tells him and he drops his eyes to hers now. She has a pleading look in them that he understands. Please don't take this away from me. Cause she doesn't know when Don'll turn again. He sighs, annoyed beyond belief as he slides out of the ring.


	5. Chapter 5

Randy fiddled with the items Sam had on the low vanity table before the mirror, running his fingers over the brushes, the powder, drawing a middle finger away covered in thick black kohl with a disgusted look upon his face. Sam, outlining her lips carefully with a lip pencil, blinks heavily mascared lashes at him and tries not to laugh, not to jar the pencil resting on her Cupid's bow. "I did say don't touch them" she reminds him. Randy wipes the offending smudge off on the tape wound round his wrists with a disgusted expression. He drummed his fingers impatiently on his knees and frowned at Sam. "Are you done yet?", said impatiently and with Randy leaning forward, bored out of his skull.

He glances at Sam, the boredom momentarily relieved. He'd been half worried she'd turn up with puffy, red eyes, in tears. Or that she wouldn't turn up at all because Don had hit her, or yelled at her, or killed her. Or any of the things Randy was worried about and Sam just took in her stride. But Sam was here, curled up in front of the mirror happily, adorning herself with makeup. She was in a great mood, cheerful, giggling. She'd thrown her arms around him when he'd seen her and given him a hug, thanked him for today. Sam had rested, eaten, was buzzing from the excitement she got whenever she was in an arena and was engrossed in perfecting her appearance. She'd either forgotten Randy was a man or she'd assumed he had no eyes, because she'd shown him her outfit a thousand times, before changing into it in front of him. Randy had seen pale, creamy skin before he'd had the good grace to turn his back.

Sam's outfit wasn't something he'd see on Kelly or Eve or one of the Divas he'd catch making eyes at him in the hall. The raven hair that curled right down her back was loose, brushed until it shone. She was currently clipping a little leather strand that ran from just behind one of her bangs right down to the lengths. It had a feather on the end that she blew away now, Randy chuckling as he watched her huff her cheeks in to blow the offending thing off. She'd made a huge deal out of telling him and showing him the new top she was wearing. It was leather and lace & she'd already sung the Stevie Nicks song so many times it was in his head. It wound across her chest in such a way as to leave her completely covered, but the suggestion was there. Lace in intricate leaf like patterns splayed down her stomach. Randy could see the creamy skin still, under the fretwork of chocolate lace as she sat, now attempting to gloss the lined lips. But she was talking to him, rambling on about something he wasn't following, happy like she was high on life. Randy knew she wasn't drunk and Sam hated drugs, she was just wired. The talking was making it hard for her to gloss. But she was practically bouncing in her seat, too up to shut up. It was one of the reasons he liked tagging with her, she was so bouncy, so upbeat. It was one of the many reasons he hated Don. When he was coming down, Sam's cheerful attitude disappeared. A hunted, scared look stayed in her eyes instead and Randy loathed it. Her pants were jeans, jet black and skintight. They clung to every curve and rested low on her hips. Her boots came to her knees, proper, midnight coloured wrestling boots. No pumped heels and no stilettos. They were business wrestling boots, laced tightly. A 'D' was emblazoned either side of them in a hot pink shade. Don had bought them for her when she'd been number 1 contender for the Divas title. Sam usually wore a heavy, thick belt but she'd told him already, twice, that she wasn't wearing one tonight because they were going to win the titles Randall, I can feel it. Her excitement was infectious and he grinned himself, slouching out in the seat and continuing to look at her. Waiting wasn't so bad. She'd carefully made up her eyes in the smoky way she knew Don liked, all shades of chocolate. Shiny red gloss covered her lips, drawing Randy's attention every time she spoke. He looked away, glanced at the wall, the door, the ceiling. Sam looked amazing. The outfit was hot, but the light in her eyes, the way she was actually bouncing in her seat...

Sam held onto the bottom of the chair and bounced a little, staring at Randy pointedly. "You can't tell me off for taking a long time anyway. What about that time you had the pre show with Jericho? My Lord, you took any longer Jericho's kid would have been a teenager by the time you finished" she commented, pointing a mascara brush at him viciously. "I took ten minutes Sam. You've taken what...three years? When are you going to get started?" She gave a mocking, barking laugh before flipping him off. He laughed and flicked through his phone. Randy glanced at hers, sitting on the table. Once, just once, he'd checked an incoming message of hers. When Sam was busy doing a post show interview and she'd forgotten to turn her phone to silent. The cameraman was glaring at Randy and he'd just hit the phone to make it shut up. Of course, curiousity had got the better of him and he'd scrolled. And he never, ever wanted to know exactly what Don did to her ever again.

Sam tightened her laces, snorting to herself, "Tightening my straps here boss" she cracked, giggling at her own bad joke. It made him laugh, not bothering to fight the smile spreading across his face. She'd come back from the gym with Don, yawning like a crazy cat lady. Don had carried her in, laid her on the couch, dropped the big, heavy, furry mink blanket she loved right over her, tucked her in, kissed her forehead, slouched himself down on the cold wooden floor and pulled out a book. She'd unwound one arm from the blanket to scruffle at the back of his neck , he'd rested back against her a little more, told her to get some shut eye woman. Sam had, curling into the warm space between him and the couch and got all the sleep she'd been missing. She'd woken to find herself in a moving car, her ring bag in the back, completely packed, Don driving and all she'd thought to say was 'Did you pack my new outfit?' he'd rolled his eyes and said "Yeah honey, yeah".

Don's match was later than theirs, the last match of the night. Against Triple H, so he had promo work to cut. It was a tradition that Don would leave her in the arena, after escorting her to her dressing room. He'd go to the mens' locker room and glare them all to death. She'd go by after the match and slink in. Sometimes...well...no, most of the time, one of the guys would be outside, waiting for her. Warning her that Don wasn't in a good mood, giving her a heads up. She shook her head slightly, careful not to dislodge the feathers. She wasn't going to think about that tonight. Sam bounced once more in the chair, attracting Randy's attention. She watched his eyes run down once more over her outfit and grinned at him, "Quit it. You have enough with your fancy women anyway" she gestured to his phone, "Who is it this time? Eva? Melina?" she rolled her eyes, "Kendrick?" Randy swore at the last one and she giggled.

Matthews knocked on their door, startling her out of her current spate about why Randy should never, ever, are you listening to me Orton? Ever, date Kelly Kelly on the grounds it was probably wrong to sleep with morons. "Listen to you" he retorted as she stood, smoothing down the skintight jeans and looking slightly nervous at the thought of their match. "You sleep with a moron every night" Sam glared at him, flipped him the bird once more. "Just for that, asshole" she replied, "I'm gonna kick you right in the head".

She followed him out of their locker room, down the hallway to where gorilla was. The previous match was just finishing up. Their match was mid card stuff. It sucked for Randy, who by this time was at Don's level, but it was a tag match, Sam wasn't a Champion..yet...she would be when they won this match and mixed tag wasn't the hardcore shenanigans Vince was pulling for on Raw this week. Randy stood silhouetted under the light in gorilla as the last matchs' participants came back through. They'd agreed to go out separately, mostly because she refused to go in under his name and he refused to listen to her 'crappy' entrance music as he called it. Sam was secretly displeased, she'd always wanted to play in a pyro. "When we're tag champs" she said, tapping his shoulder, "We're having our own pyro" she added. Randy laughed, "Sure. Whatever you want. But none of your music" he retorted, stepping a little further forward when the sound guy made for his desk. "Hey!" They both turned at the urgent whisper, to find one of the lower rookies leaning in gorilla. "This is for you" he continued to whisper, giving Sam a piece of paper folded over. She gave Randy a puzzled expression and opened it, smoothing the crinkles flat.

'Knock the fucker dead  
& once you've taken care of Randy, knock the other fuckers' dead too'  
Love;  
D'

Sam's smile lit up the dark space in gorilla. She tucked the slip of paper inside the tight jeans pocket, patting it. Rev Theory began to play and Randy's mind was diverted as he stepped out to his music. The pyro flared up around him and he was reminded of Sam's comment about one. He took a few steps out of the way, avoiding the dying fireworks now as Sam's music hit. Muse's 'Supermassive Black Hole' had made her an instant hit with the tween population watching WWE. It was the only thing he and Don agreed on, it needed changing. Sam stepped out through gorilla onto the ramp and he had to smile at the expression on her face. As they walked down to the ring together, showboating with Sam raising both arms to the crowd Randy found himself wishing tonight would be a night when Don was sober. Knowing it probably wouldn't. It killed him to watch Sam change. To see how much she loved him and how that asshole didn't care cause if he did, he wouldn't do the things he did.

As Randy'd known, Sam was true to her word. She performed brilliantly, wrestled even better. They were one of the first combined tag teams and if the crowds' reaction was anything to go by...He knew they were going to walk away with the titles. Their opponents – Miz & Maryse – had nothing on them. It was exactly like they'd planned. Sam found herself on top of the turnbuckle, ready to dive back off onto Miz below, thinking that all the worrying she'd told Don in the middle of the night, when she was stressing and he was blowing air across the top of a half empty scotch bottle had been worth it. They were going to win. They had one move they'd worked on over and over, co-ordinated to the last gesture. Randy would attack, drop down to his knees, where Sam would come running, use his back as a launch pad and hurricarana whoever happened to be unlucky enough to be stood there. They'd tried it the other way round but she couldnt hold Randy's weight. It worked perfectly. Miz crumpled. When he got back up, Randy reached in the graceful, violent snipers' way he had and snapped Miz into a picture perfect RKO. Randy kicked him, glanced across at Maryse, out for the count at the other side of the ring and made a gesture to her where the cameras would easily pick it up, asking if she wanted the pin. Showboating back, Sam indicated he could take it. Randy pinned Miz and Sam stood in shock when the bell had rung. They'd won. They were tag team champs. The ref was sliding two belts into them, handing one to her and she couldn't take it from him, couldn't quite grasp the gold. It was hers. They'd won. She fumbled with the gold, wanted to cry. Wanted Don. Wanted to show him she'd won. She was so happy she wanted to cry, bouncing on the balls of her feet and holding the belt. Randy was saying something to her, gesturing she should put it round her waist but she couldn't figure out how to undo the clasp.

Sam looked towards the titantron to see her image holding the belt, her eyes caught by the sight of Don running down the ramp. Dressed in suit pants, a navy blue shirt half unbuttoned, he was running down the ramp. Slid in, crossed to her in a couple of seconds. "I did it!" she told him eagerly, trying to shove the belt at him. "Look!" Don snorted with laughter, took the belt from her and wrapped it around her waist neatly, fastening it. He placed her hands on it, smooths his fingers over her palms. "I know Sammy. You did it" He hoists her onto his shoulders so she's too high above the ring and it makes her dizzy, strokes her shins, "Good girl". Sam can see Randy's face, away from the cameras, black with rage. Don's neatly stolen their thunder. What should have been him and Sam has become Don and Sam. He can't fault her, perched on his shoulders, her beautiful face so full of wonder at winning and swimming with love that Don had come down, come out to support her that Randy can't blame her at all. He blames Don, the soulless shade of his eyes as he turns towards Randy. Don slips her down his back, she wraps her arms around him from behind and he's making that low growl she loves, sends chills down her spine. He grabs her in front of the crowd, pulls her close so she can feel him, cups her ass in full view of the camera and she knows Vince will throw a tantrum when he sees it. Randy is crossing to them as she hears Don whisper "You look like a wet dream". Sam tips her face to his, runs her gaze over the dark eyes, his face, all whiskers and tan , smells of vodka and cigar smoke. She snorts and he tightens his grip on her, "My wet dream" There's a possessiveness behind the words and Sammy knows she's going to cry when Don says again, low voice at her ear in front of everyone, "I love you Sammy".

After Don's appearance, Sam's barred from ringside at his match. She watches at the monitors near gorilla, never with her heart in her mouth. Don has it nailed. The drink doesn't seem to touch him as he wrestles. All grace and violence so perfectly contained. As he snaps Hunter down so hard the ring bounces beneath them. She misses Randy behind her until rests a hand on her belt at the back. Sam barely takes her eyes from Don's image on the monitor. "Hey! We won!" she exclaims, throwing her arms around him for another hug. He takes it, hugs her back tightly before letting her go. "Sam..." he starts and she stops. "What? Don? Please Randy, you saw him. He's okay" Randy nods, taps his belt. "He is. Now. What happens when he finishes celebrating and comes down, sees you have a belt and he doesn't? Shit Sam, he doesn't even need to see that. He's okay now cause he isn't coming down" and he sees the acknowledgement flash in her eyes. "Yeah" she says, but her eyes don't move off Don's image on the screen as he lays, winded from Hunter. When Hunter leans over to pin, Don shifts and knocks him flying. She laughs proudly, looks at Randy again. "Look Randy, I said the next time anything...if it does..then I promise I'll call you" she tells him. "But look at him!" she says, pointing to the screen, where Don is pinning Hunter.

Don wins. Randy winces. Not just because Don'll come back here like he owns the joint but because all of them will be in for Hunters' wrath. Sam's grabbing hold of his arm, "Did you see that? Did you see what move he pulled? He hasn't done that since..." and she trails off. Randy can follow the train of thought right through to the end, where she doesn't want to go. Since he started drinking. Because he can't. Because his co-ordination is shot and its only Gods grace that didnt send him sprawling to the mat tonight. Don disappears from the monitor as he makes his way backstage and Sam flashes him that look again. Please don't ruin it.

He replies by shouldering his bag. He's had enough. This is supposed to be their night. They made WWE Tag Champions. He and Sam should be celebrating. But she's going to go celebrate with Don. Randy's thoughts get confirmed when Don appears, shirtless, dressed in the suit pants still, couldnt be bothered changing into his trunks, chest covered in sweat. Sam lays a hand right on a sweaty pectoral, leans up for a kiss. "Awesome" she tells him, holding onto his other arm and Randy can't take it anymore. He hates the way her hand folds so lovingly over the muscled wrist, the wrist attached to a hand thats shaking with tremors. Don is only a few hours away from a major come down, jonesing for a drink. Randy can read it in his eyes. "Sam, I'm gonna cut out. I'll catch you tomorrow" he says gruffly, taking his bag. Sam turns from Don for just a moment, "Randy? We just won, aren't you going to celebrate with us?" Don's eyes are pitch black as he glares a silent 'try it and see' at Randy. Randy shakes his head, "Nah Sammy" and he watches Don's eyes turn to slits, knows he hates anyone calling Sam 'his' name. Sam winces too, she doesn't like it either. It clinches Randy. "Don't you have to be holding a junkies hand right about now?" He knows he shouldn't have said it when Sam turns away, shuts him out. He can see her shoulders sag just a little. This time he did it. He walks off, kicks open the door angrily. Checks his phones on charge and loud, waiting for when Sam's world will fall apart. Again.

Don takes her out, arms wrapped tightly around her. He's up because of his win, because of hers. Tells her how proud he is of her. Wants to say just how much she's proud, Sammy's a winner. Sammy did all this with an alcoholic hanging off her. But he won't because he doesn't want her to leave. Leans across the seat of the car, brushes her lips, tells her in a rough, gruff voice he'd take her anywhere she wanted, but what he really wants is evident when she strokes a hand over the suit pants. She giggles, that throaty noise she makes and he wants to turn around and give Randy two fingers, fuck you, look who shes going home with, but he doesn't because his fingers are curled in her hair. The drive homes' short and he's thankful, because he doesn't think he could take much more of Sam's legs thrown up on the dashboard, the way she shifts in her seat as she talks, telling him about her match, about his. She runs her hands through her hair, tugs out the feathers and throws them at him. The scent of her shampoo makes its way to him and he grits his teeth. "Could shove this thing in the ditch and take you now" he warns. Sam's eyes dilate and he smirks. Don's frustrated, achingly hard as he throws the keys to the guy at the hotel. "Don't scratch my car" Sam says, turning around in the crook of Don's elbow. "Shut up" he grumbles, knocking her back into his embrace. Throws off his leather jacket in the room, lands on a chair. Sam has her hands in her pockets, blinking innocently at him. It sends a ring of ice right round his heart that she's trying to read him. Can almost hear her thoughts. How drunk are you Don? You gonna hit me tonight or we alright? The guilt forces its way up and he shoves it back down. Fuck you. Fuck them. He could cope with it. Could handle the drink and still give Sam what she needed. Couldnt he?

Decides to let Sam choose, comes up behind her, stands right in her personal space without touching her. She turns, feeling his prescence a small, soft grin gracing her lips as she leans into him. Falls against his broad chest and links her arms around his neck, nudging at the whiskers for a kiss. Don kisses back hungrily, holds her jaw in his hands. He loves her. It goddamn hurts more than anything he's ever known as he remembers what he said last night. Pushes himself against her lips harder as he remembers the knife he had, as he remembers slapping her face one night. As he remembers cursing at her, throwing a bottle. Don gives her a rough shove back and walks off, running a hand over the beard.

He knows Sam's stood behind him. Can see her in the mirror. She's watching him quietly, not saying anything and Don knows she's waiting to see what kind of mood he's in. When he doesn't start to yell, Sam bites her lip and touches his elbow. "Whats the matter?" and the sound of her voice, sweetness and light, undoes him. "I'm a shit Sammy" and he looks at her. Sam quirks an eyebrow. "And you only just noticed?" He snorts and she folds her arms across her chest, pushing cleavage in his line of view, eyes dropping to watch the rise and swell. "You're not seriously gonna pull the bleeding heart crap on me now Don?" He laughs, tastes vodka on his teeth. "Fuck it..." Wants to tell her how he feels. Isnt the kind of guy who would. Sam's hands are clasped around her, eyes blinking at him. Don moves quick, shoves her back against the wall, balancing her there with one muscular thigh between hers, hands roaming up and down her frame. Growled in his throat as he stepped back from the wall, sweeps Sammy with him. Walks her back to the bed and curls a foot round hers, knocks her back onto the bed neatly. Leans against the end of the bed, hands on his belt. Looks her over, runs his eyes over her curves. What he wants for her hits him right between the eyes.

"You gonna wait around all day or what Don?" she asks, poking him with a foot. "Shut your face" he mutters, "You're the hottest thing I saw since my reflection this morning" he tells her and she giggles. He moves onto the bed, knocks her thighs apart with his knee, settling himself comfortably over her. Elbows either side of her shoulders, crushes his lips against hers. Sam makes that little squeak noise he likes, wraps her arms around him, loves the feel of the rough whiskers against her skin. She can feel the knife edge that has nothing to do with his need, in him. Makes her heart beat faster. Don places a hand on her wrist, pressing it down into the pillow, sends a writhe against him that makes him smile, lips smirking against hers. "Toughen up little girl" he teases, breaking the kiss to speak the words right over her eyes. Sam punches him hard, right in the shoulder and she's thankful he isn't pissed right now. Or she'd be back through the wall. As it is, he snorts. "Exactly who are you calling little girl, old man?" she replies, making to hit him again. Don pushes down firmer, smile becoming as hard as the rest of him. He goes to speak and shuts his mouth. Sam wants to know what he was about to say. Instead he whispers something nameless against her throat, grinds his groin into hers and she feels it. A feeling like a twanging wire as she feels the length against her. Sam slipped a hand between them, feeling him through the slacks, strokes. Don groans in her ear, breath blowing against her ear, scented with the alcohol he's already drunk. He's not pissed. This is sober for Don. "Fuck, baby girl" he rasps, cups her breast. Don sits back on his haunches, undoes the slacks slowly. Its not all seduction, the finer points get beyond him when he's had a few. Sam ignores it, smiling as she watches, trailing fingertips across her flat stomach, playing with the edges of the lace. Don growls, eyes following her fingers. He gets unfastened, slides cool fingers under the lace. Rips. "Aw, Don that was brand new" she complains. "Sit up" he orders and she does as she's told. Don slides one finger against the button of her jeans, releases it, grabs the skimpy material of her underwear at the same time and pulls them both off. Settles back on his haunches again. Don wants nothing right now, nothing other than Sammy underneath him, writhing, calling his name. Sam smooths a hand over his abdominal muscles, brushes against him. "Don" she begs before she pouts and makes the eyes he can't resist. He flips her off. Slaps her hand away from him as he leans over. Gives her a hard look as he's thinking something behind the eyes. Sends chills down her spine. Sam has the sudden feeling something, everythings' about to change and she doesn't want it to. She wants this. She wants Don and everything to be okay, together. She'll take it, she'll deal with it but she hates the look in his eyes. The pain. "Hey D...you okay?". Don leans down to her, Sam's hands on his pectoral muscles, the well defined shapes beneath the skin. His own hands are further down than she thought, snakes a finger up into her so she gasps. Chuckles. Sam says something she can't make head nor tail of but Don smirks. Her breathing becomes irregular when Don speaks against her throat. She comes hard, ends up seeing Don looking at her, his eyes heated. Sinks into her steadily, huge and Sam's eyes widen. She holds tightly onto him. Don notices. Hates himself. "Ssssh" he hushes. "You can take it" he tells her in a low throaty whisper and for a moment Sam doesn't know whether he means his cock or his drinking. She cries out, hands on his shoulders as he moves. Groans low in his throat as he hits home. Deep strokes when Sammy bites down on his shoulder, making him hiss. "Behave" he orders. She moans. He holds both of her wrists down with one hand, she catches the skin of his throat between her teeth. "Don't push it" he warns, as close as he can get, strokes her cheek as he presses deeper. Don pins her and takes the curls falling around her shoulders in his hands. Sam ignores his words and nips at his throat, feels her tense and shudder around him, moaning against his neck. Comes blind in her, looks into her eyes. Please God don't let him fuck this one up.

Randy throws Sam's little rubber stress ball against the table of the bar he sits in. Eve is sat next to him, curled against him, whispering in his ear. He couldnt give a damn. Sam's stress ball is marked with her scratches and claws when she wants to cry and can't. Glances at the phone. It'll come and he can feel it. Don's gonna come crashing down, hard.


	6. Chapter 6

The call Randy had been dreading didn't come that night.

It came the next day, just before lunch.

Randy was shouldering his bag, closing the gym room door behind him as he made his way back through the hotel to his room. He wiped sweat from his brow with a towel, groaning inwardly when he saw a cleaner walking towards him follow his arms' movement and back again. No thanks. He dropped his bag in front of the room, keyed the door and booted the bag inside roughly, stepping over it to reach the remote. As he stood in the middle of the room, wiping his face on his t shirt now, rubbing sweat from his eyes, flicking through the channels , he heard the sound he'd been half listening for all night, all morning. His mobile ringing.

Randy slid it out from between the towels in his bag, checked the screen. Sam's name was flashing up. Raises his eyes towards the ceiling briefly in a prayer he doesn't know he's saying. Please don't let her be okay. Who the hell is he kidding? Sam hasn't been okay in a long while. It must be bad for her to actually ring like she said she would. "Sam?" he asked and her voice is so thick, so hard to understand Randy has to ask her to repeat what she's saying. Sam sounded like she was talking through a fog. "Sam..I can't understand you properly. Are you drunk?" he asked. There was a sound that might have been an indignant snort, but it was muffled, twisted.

"Sure..I'm drunk" she said and there was such a sadness behind her words that Randy was searching for his keys. "Listen" she asked and the word is so badly strangled he has to think back over the sentence. "Sam, are you okay?" he asks and there's a long, silent pause on the end of the phone, before the swollen sounding voice comes again. "You said it was okay if I came over?" she asked. "Of course it is. Stay where you are. I'll come get you" he suggested and he could hear Sam making some kind of noise in protest. "Already...driving" he manages to pick out. For Sam to have up and left Don like this, it must have been bad. "Have you left him?" he asks and his tone is more brutal than he thought. "For fucks sake!" she exclaims, the swearword the one clear noise in her twisted way of speaking. "No. I haven't left Don. He just..I just...is it okay if I come over for a little bit?" she asked. Randy hated the frightened tone in her voice. Like he'd say no and go ballistic on her like Don did. "Yeah" he says and crosses to the balcony. Don's Viper is pulling into a parking spot. It shudders, the massive engine clicking violently as Sam rams it into park far too fast.

A few moments later a knock came at his door. Randy opened it and found out just why Sam's voice was so strangled, so different sounding. Because the right side of her mouth is swollen violently. It's dark purple and swollen, looking abruptly alien on her delicate features. Blood is pooled on her lower lip and she's wincing as she's talking to him. Randy took one look and pulled her inside the room so fast that Sam turned around quickly, throwing up her hands in reflex. Randy stopped dead in the room and stared at her. Sam had immediately gone into a defensive stance and was just now lowering her hands. "What the hell happened to you?" he asked, pulling her hands away from her face gently. There's a bruise covering the right side of her lips, the cheek puffed out. Like...Randy shuts his eyes. Like Sam got punched in the mouth. And by someone who punched for a living.

"Don did this" Randy said, didn't ask, didn't need to. Sam looked away from him, unable to meet his eyes. Randy wanted to bring her face to his but was loathe to touch the swollen looking jawline. His eyes ran over the injury once more. "Your interview you had today" he said flatly. Sam shook her head, "Rang them and told them I was sick" she explained. He nodded. Of course. There was no way Sam could have gone looking like she did. "I'm calling the police" he snapped, reaching for his phone. Let Don get what he deserved. Sam grabbed for the phone, crashed up against him as she stumbled. "Randy!" he stopped with the phone up in the air, above her head. "Come on Sam. You aren't seriously going to let him get away with this?" he asked. She placed her hands on her hips, "He was drunk" Randy pointed the phone at her, "You tell me he didnt know what he was doing and so help me..." he warned. She could see real anger sparking in his eyes. "Of course he did. Don was drunk, not stupid. But when he calms down, he'll be okay. Maybe he'll see this and it'll change a few things" she replied. The bruise she'd got this time was larger, more obvious than the ones before. Sam knew Don would freak when he saw it. He wasn't the guy Randy was making him out to be.

Randy stared at her, wanting so badly to dial the numbers and have the jackass locked in jail. He saw how earnestly Sam was begging him not to do it and realised somewhere, dully, in the back of his mind if he did report Don, he'd lose Sam's friendship. It was a risk he wasn't willing to take just yet. It would be better to take care of her now and deal with Don later. "Fine" he said, shoulders rising and falling as he sighed. Sam sagged in relief, holding the bridge of her nose to will back tears. "Thank you" she said fervently. Randy turned his back and ignored it. He walked into the kitchenette, hunted in one of the cupboards, drawing out a heat pack and sticking it in the microwave for her. "You get it checked out at the hospital?" he asked, placing one hand on her shoulder to sit her down. She folded gratefully into the sofa, taking the heatpack from him. Sam placed it against the injury and closed her eyes. "Randy, you're an angel" she told him, opening her eyes to find Randy leaning against the edge of the couch, looking down at her intently. She misread the look in the icily brilliant blue eyes for concern over whether she'd gone to the hospital or not. "No. I couldn't. They'd have guessed it wasn't an accident and Don would have been.." she drifted off as she rearranged the pack. "I saw Dr Andrews" she admitted. "Minor laceration" she repeated. It sure didnt feel so minor sat there aching against her jaw. She didnt want to think about Don's words, how he'd come swinging for her with nothing behind the dark eyes.

Don's eyes felt like they'd been sewn shut, then re-opened with a knife between the eyelids. He cursed, opened bleary eyes and looked around a kitchen that would've fit right in on a horror movie. Everything was everywhere. His back was against the wall, a vicious cramp building in his right thigh as he tried to stand, hands fumbling on the wall as he slid himself up. Fuck. He was too old for this goddamn shit. "Sammy!" he yelled, cursing again as he took in the state of the kitchen. What the hell did the rest of the room look like? His thoughts turned to his girlfriend. Sammy would have been scared shitless. Again. Don slammed his fists into his eyes, fighting back the urge to throw something, to weep. He hated this.

When Sammy didn't appear, didn't nudge the door open with a cup of joe like she usually did, Don felt ice slide in round his heart. He cracked open the door and limped painfully into the living room. It was empty, ransacked. The tv sat at an odd angle, the wires torn out. The bedroom was the same. Sammy wasn't there. The sheets were ripped back, off the bed. The bedhead was cracked and not the way he and Sam usually cracked it. It was jagged in one corner. The bathroom was empty. The mirror was shattered in one corner. Don stared at the bleary, rough down, beat down figure that looked back at him. His eyes were like piss holes in the snow, whiskers a heavy shadow. He rested his hands on the basin, fighting back a wave of nausea. Too late, he retched and threw up. What came out was bright red. "Shit". The sight of the blood didn't worry him too much. What worried him was that Sammy wasn't here. What had he done? Where was she? Was she okay?

Her mobile lay on the bed. He picked it up. She'd left a message on the screen for him 'Taken the car phone instead xx' The two little kisses made him smile, made his heart ache. Where was she? The slivers of ice grew deeper, a gnawing pain in his chest. As he placed the phone back down he noticed the bedsheet was spattered with blood. It was fresh, staining his fingers when he dipped them in it. With a heavy heart he checked himself over. He wasn't cut. Which meant the blood could only be Sammy's. "You stupid, stupid fucking idiot!" he shouted, referring to himself, picking up the nearest object – Sammy's glass of water she kept by the bedside table- and hurling it into the vanity mirror. It shattered. What the fuck had he done?

Get his damn head straight. The first thing to do would be to find her. Think. She had a photo shoot, an interview to do today. Maybe she'd left to go to that. The number was by the motel's phone and he dialled it. Some punk kid answered and almost shat himself when he heard Don's voice. "Sammy" Don said hoarsely, coughing down the hangover, "Sam had an interview. I need to speak to her"

"Sam didn't make the interview Sir" the guy said, rolling his eyes. Honestly. It was bad enough the Diva hadn't made her shoot and interview, now he was sat here explaining things to the boyfriend. "Sammy's not there?" Don snapped. "No. She called to cancel the appointment this morning. Told us she felt very unwell and would be going to the doctors. Tell her Vince will want a med cert" the guy said. "Fuck your med cert" Don barked, slamming the phone down. Sammy had never turned up for the interview. She never missed one. He had to find her. Stumbled out of the room, found her diary, open on the table by the door. Her interview was marked off, scratched through with a shaky hand. Randy Orton's mobile number was written a few days before. Don didnt bother calling, running out the front door, grabbing Sammy's keys as he went.

Randy knew the knock at the door before he got there, a silent snarl forming on his face as he wrenched it open. Don stood there, looking the hung over piece of crap he was. "You asshole" Randy snapped, bringing up a fist sharply at Don's stomach. The older man blocked it , "Sammy" he snapped.

Sam jerked her head up from the sofa, hearing Don's voice outside. "Tell me where Sammy is you jumped up little fuck" he was barking. Randy's voice was like fury wound round a thunderstorm, the two of them locking up outside the room. "You stupid, selfish asshole!" Randy was yelling and she could hear the sound of fists. "I don't have time for this shit" Don barked, "Tell me if she's here with you" he ordered. Sam walked to the door, appeared behind Randy. "Randy" she said quietly.

Don stopped dead. He didn't even move when Randy grabbed hold of his neck. He swallowed around the hand strangling his neck. Sam had a heat pack against her cheek and lips, her eyes huge and pale in her face. Seeing Don's reaction, Randy lowered his hand, shouldered Don back. Don shoved him aside, pushed into the room. "It's okay D" Sam said as he reached for the heatpack against her face. "Its not as bad as you..." he pulled the heatpack off gently, cool fingers smoothing over the bruise.

He stared at the dark bruise staining her cheek, bursting her top lip, the pooled blood around her lower lip. Heard the garbled, strangled sound of her voice as she spoke. His little Sammy. He wanted to cry. He wanted to cut himself, to do what he'd done to her a thousand times over. He'd actually done it, actually wounded Sammy. The one person in this world he loved and he'd smashed her face wide open.

"You did that" Randy stated, sticking the knife in and twisting it. "You got drunk, you punched her in the mouth" he spat, hatred pouring out between his lips. 'Whats your next trick Don? You gonna knife her the next time you drink vodka?" Don ignored him, barely heard the words. "Sammy" he started, "I did this?" She nodded ever so slightly. "Its okay" she started and Don snapped up a hand at her, "Its not okay" he barked. "Look at the state of your mouth" He slid his fingers in under her chin, lifted her head up to see better. He stood as close as he could to her, Sam leaning in to him unconsciously. Randy couldnt believe what he was seeing. He'd just beaten her and yet Sam wasn't running scared. Don's fingers smoothed down her neck. "Tell me" he ordered and Sam closed her eyes. "You don't want to hear" she replied, trying not to remember what he'd said. Don stepped back against the couch, sitting on the arm, pulled her against him. "Tell me". "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Randy asked, appearing like a bat out of hell in Don's right hand vision. "You beat her. You cant just storm in here and act like nothing happened. You're lucky she talked me out of calling the cops on your beating ass" he spat. Don only just barely acknowledged him. "Sam" Randy added, wanting to break the pensive look on her face as she took Don in. He was pale beneath his tan, she could feel him shaking right through as she leant against him. He stank of cheap liquor and he was in obvious pain. "Are you okay?" she asked. "Oh for fucks sake" Randy snapped.

Sam turned to him, "Please" she asked in that mangled voice. He could see Don wince at the sound of it, cast his eyes over the bruise again. "Just let me talk to Don". "Sure" Randy said, "In fact, I'll go get you some vodka Don, then I'll bring back a stick and you can smack Sam over the head with it. Just your usual routine" Don turned black eyes on him and smirked, "Real funny asswipe". Sam held up a hand between both of them. "The pair of you can stop it right now" she ordered and the words sounded so awful in her rough voice that both of them did stop. "Randy; Don and I need to speak alone. He's sober, he's not going to hurt me" she promised. "Don, Randy was there when I needed him. He's looked after me this afternoon and made sure I wasn't in craploads of pain after someone...no names mentioned...punched me in the face, so back off Randy" she warned. Don gave her a black look, but did as she said. However, he wasn't able to leave it alone for long. Randy told them curtly he'd be in the bedroom and was almost at the door when Don added loudly, "He looked after you because he wants to fuck you Sammy. It aint altruistic" Randy could have slammed the door on his fat head.

"I'll altruistic you in a minute" Sam replied, grinning despite herself. The movement caused the side of her lip to jerk up and she winced. Don made a low, unhappy sound in his throat. "Sammy" The sound of his voice made her stop and look up sharply. "This can't go on anymore" he said quietly. Sam felt like her world was falling apart under her feet. "You want to break up?" she asked. Don's eyes widened, huge dark places in his face, "What? Fuck no" he exclaimed. "No Sammy. I don't want to break up. You're the best damn thing in my life. You're the only thing that keeps me here. Why the hell would I break up with you?" he stated. The look of relief on her face made him smile, til he remembered what he wanted to say. "Which is why I'm going to do this. This ain't what you deserve Sammy, not some old guy with a drink problem. This is dangerous" Sam bites her lips, watches his fingers grip her hip almost painfully as he thinks, the creases by the sides of his eyes, way he flicks his eyes back to hers.

"I'm going to rehab" he said. Sam is quiet, plays with the belt loops on his jeans silently. "Sammy" he says again, nudges her chin with his finger, "Unplug your ears. I said I'm going to rehab". There's a snuffle and then Sammy's on his lap. She's crying and holding onto him. Don folded his arms around her tightly, holding the small bundle on his lap, burying his face in her hair.

"Thats bullshit" Randy's stood in the doorway and nothing on his face believes anything Don's said. Don places Sam on her feet and stands up. "You've been drunk for decades Don. Now you're gonna change?" Randy questions. Don nods, "Yeah, you pompous prick. I've been drunk most of my life. But I've never hit Sammy before. She aint some wilting wallflower like you think, she can deal" Don tells him proudly, "But this..." he gestures to her face and there's a look of abject misery on his. How the hell could he have done that? Its the wakeup call he needs. The poisons dragging Sam away from him.

"You honestly believe that Sam?" Randy asks. He's twitching he's that angry, coming out to face them both now. The blue eyes are roiling and his face is the Viper, not her friend. "You're dumb enough to fall for that?" he asks again. Don stands in front of her. "Say she's dumb again" he taunts, cracking his knuckles. "Oh look. Big man now, protecting your woman. Hey look Don...beer. How long will you go before you hit her again?" Don starts in on him but Sam cuts in, almost coming up between two muscled chests. "Don. Randy helped me. Don't take it out on him. He's just upset" she said, placing a hand on Don's chest. "Oh please" Randy snapped, turning his anger on Sam now. "I'm not just upset Sam. You're an idiot for going back to him" he stated, "You'll get hit again" he threw up his hands, "And what am I? I pick up the pieces everytime you fall apart and you go back to him? I've seen you come in these past four months we've been tagging. You come in tired, you come in beat, you come in shaking like a leaf cause this ass can't keep himself sober. You deserve better" Randy muttered, "Then he goes one step too far, hits you. Realises it and comes crawling offering rehab like it'll make everything all better" he adds, "Newsflash headcase, it wont. You'll still be an asshole" Don wants to snap every bone in the pricks body. Not least because Randy's right. He isn't what Sam needs right now. But he has no intention of giving her up. He'll be what she needs.

Don steps away, "Hey, you wanna fill her head with crap you go right ahead" he warns, "But don't cry when she comes back to me" he adds, smoothing Sam's neck with his fingers. "Give me your kitchen" , walks into it, looking for something, anything to take his mind off wanting to hurt Randy. "The beers' in the fridge" Randy calls out. "Self righteous little fuck" Don spits. Pain like a knife runs through his stomach suddenly, finds himself leaning against the sink and almost panting. Shit. Remembers throwing up blood, he's been pissing blood for days. He ignored it, listening to Randy's poison of his own wind its way round Sam's ears.

"Sam, rehab isn't going to change anything. He beat you. You should be walking away and drawing a line under this, not going back to him. You haven't even told him off for hitting you Sam! What kind of woman does that?" But she had told him off. Sam closed her eyes briefly as the memory came back. She wasn't all innocent. Sam had stood there yelling her head off, telling a drunk Don exactly what he'd done. She'd gone in screaming and yelling, all guns blazing, not quite the wilting innocent. Sam doesn't need to bawl Don out about it because she can see it in his eyes. And the fact she's already yanked his chain about it last night during his drunken fit. Right now, the kitchen is silent. Don is silent and it draws her attention. He's never quiet. Man's built like a bull in a china shop and acts like one. "I yelled at him last night, believe me Randy he got an earful. And a good few fists back too, so don't tell me I haven't said everything I need to say" she replied. Don smirks, he remembers her yelling at him alright. She's so hot when she's mad. Leans a little heavier on the counter when his left leg gives out. Had the shakes in the thing all day. He knocks the cutlery as he balances heavily on the drawer. "You break it, you buy a new set" Randy calls out harshly. Don ignores it. He can hear Sammy coming his way but Randy stops her with his next words. "Now you're going back to him and everythings going to be like it was huh? Rehab's going to fix it and you can be the golden couple again" he spits.

"I don't know where your jealousy's coming from Orton" Sam spits back "But you better watch your step" Randy has to fight back the smile he wants to give at her fire. Even if it is given in support of the wrong person. "I love Don. I don't care what you think, what Vince thinks, what anybody thinks. Whether rehab works or not. I'm with him and no amount of you bitching and bellyaching about how I need to go all womens lib on him is going to make me change my mind" Sam took the now cold heatpack and moved a step towards the kitchen. "Sometimes it doesn't make sense" she said and Don can hear the love in her words. God help him, get him through rehab and he'll marry her. Take her to Vegas and have Elvis do the freaking honours. He loves her so bad it hurts worse than the withdrawal. The weak left leg gives a little more, he crashes badly against the microwave. "Don?" Sam's voice is worried now, placing the heatpack down and coming his way.

She's stopped when Randy speaks next. "Sam, I'm telling you now. You go back in there to him, to someone who beats you and rages on you everytime he sniffs the barmaids apron thats it. We're done" Sam turns around in amazement. Don's eyes narrow. The righteous ass. He calls Don selfish and yet he's twanging Sam's heartstrings like a violin. Knowing she loves the belts, she loves tagging, she loves being out there, likes having him as a ring partner. "We're done?" she asks. "Done" Randy affirms, "No more tag team. I'm not picking up after you anymore" he tells her and he knows when he says it that its a lie. He'll pick up after her as far as she goes, but he needs to make her see this is killing her. Sam throws up her hands. "You know what? Fine. You want to have a temper tantrum in your crib Randy? Deal. Take the stupid belt. I'll get Di Biase to drop it off for you. You can take it into Vince and hold your own damn match to get a new partner" Don closes his eyes as Sam fights for him, losing everything shes worked for in the process. "You'd really throw the tag teaming away just for him?" Randy asks incredulously. "Yes" she says simply and Don needs to go out there to her now. He takes a few more steps, the left leg useless. Drags along the side of the counter. He's coughing blood and Sam's next angry words stop abruptly. The sound is gurgling and harsh. "Don!"

She runs into the kitchen to see Don leaning heavily on the door, coming out to her. He's coughing blood and holding up his hand to say he's okay, don't get your panties in a twist now Sammy, but the hand is shaking. The other hand holds his stomach like he's in godawful pain and one leg is dragging. Sam claps a hand over her mouth and goes to him, ducks her shoulder under his and orders Don to let go. He tells her to get stuffed. Randy appears at the door frame. Don obviously cant stand not being the centre of attention for ten minutes. He sees Don and Sam's scared face. As he looks into Sam's frightened eyes Don sags heavily against her and she buckles. "Randy" Sam's voice is no longer angry, she's frightened and begging him. "Can you call an ambulance?" Randy takes one look at the man whose caused nothing but sorrow for Sam, whose made her turn her back on the titles , whose singlehandedly ruining her career with his own self destruction. No. He won't do it. "No Sam. I told you. You chose him. We're done". Randy takes one more look at the scene, at Sam's horrified face, feels his own pain inside. He turned on his heel and walked out the hotel room door, slammed it shut behind him as Sam takes the hotel phone and dials.


	7. Chapter 7

When they brought Don into the hospital, they took him away from her. He'd been in pain, in and out while they waited, sprawled as comfortably as Sam could get him on Randy's couch. In the ambulance the hand holding hers was weak, but he'd told her not to worry, told her everything was fine. Told her he was going to be fine and to quit furrowing her pretty brow over him. The ambulance officers had brought him to the Emergency department, where a nurse checked him over, called a doctor. The next thing Sam knew Don was being taken away. All she got was a hurried explanation from a harassed looking nurse, Don was bleeding internally, needed surgery. It terrified her. When they started to take him away, to surround him with equipment and orderlies, Sam tried to squeeze past to get to him. The same nurse turned around and told her to wait in a room a little further down the hall. She couldn't follow Don. Sam didn't want to be alone, didn't want to leave Don.

Don barked harshly at the nurse pushing the stretcher. "Let me see her". The nurse started to tell him he needed the surgery as soon as possible, he could speak to his girlfriend afterwards. The important thing was they get him sorted. "The important thing is that Sammy's alright. Now stop this and let me talk to her or so help me I'll withdraw consent for every single freaking thing you want to do to me" he threatened. The nurse looked like she wanted to brain him with the forms she was carrying. Damn patients' autonomy. Disgruntled, she paused the orderlies and gave Sam an impatient wave. Sam ducked under their arms and leant over the stretcher. He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "I'll be fine. Go get some coffee or something Sammy" he could see the unshed tears in her eyes, "Go on" he muttered close right next to her ear as she leant over him, kissing his forehead, "Fetch me a vodka" She started to laugh, shaking her head and being tugged back by the nurse now. Sam shook her off, gave the woman a filthy look and stood back from Don, rubbing her hand against her eyes. "Come back" she ordered, watching as they took him away. The nurse followed, leaving Sam with no information and no idea where to go. Don closes his eyes, grits his teeth against the pain. He didnt tell Sammy he loved her.

She found herself wandering down the hall, looking at posters on the wall. Adverts for hospital functions, medical rounds, not seeing any of the minutiae up on the walls. She passed room after room of patients. Some sat staring at nothing. One old woman was crying. Sam swallowed back her own tears and eventually found the room the nurse had vaguely pointed out. Don's name was already on the door. She patted the sign and slipped inside, looking at the empty bed. There was one visitors chair in the room, dragging it to the side of the bed, she slumped into it. All she knew was he had internal bleeding. That was it. Sam didnt even know where. Could they stop that? Was he going to come back out? What if Don didn't? This was due to his drinking, she knew it. What if this was it? The end stage of all the beers he'd knocked back, going through a door and never coming back. Sam started to cry. She put her head in her hands and cried, prayed. Don't let Don die.

After what seemed like an eternity Sam sniffed and stopped. She'd cried every tear she had, sat there in the little room. The clock on the wall told her 2 hours had passed. Her blank thoughts were interrupted when the same nurse rapped on the door, pushed it open. The woman took in Sam's tearstained face and gave her a soft smile. She watched the Diva's eyes wince as if expecting her to say the worst. "He's still in surgery" she told Sam. "Is he okay? What is it?" Sam asked, leaning forward almost off her chair. "He's suffered a GI – gastrointestinal" the nurse explained, "Bleed. The surgeons have stopped it, they should be finishing right about now" She looked down at the dependence checklist she held in her hand. "I need to ask you something..." she started. Sam nodded in response, "Don's an alcoholic" she confirmed. The nurse looked away, looked back at Sam. "Well, that caused this" she replied "If your boyfriend doesn't reduce his drinking to manageable levels he runs the risk of further bleeds, cirrhosis, ulcers..." Sam held up her hand politely, "I know. He's going into rehab" she said proudly. The nurse wisely said nothing. Don De Saviero was one of those well known wrestlers in the public eye, like Cena or Randy Orton, depending on who you favoured. Unlike the other two, his numerous in ring exploits were sometimes overshadowed by his drinking. He'd been in bar fights, arrested, hauled before the RICO commission for associating with the Mafia, you name it, Don had done it. Although he claimed his 'association' was just drinking with one of "the boys". Somehow the nurse didnt believe this patient would stop.

Sam's relationship with him was not as well known. Don refused to speak about her in interviews. He told anyone who asked it was 'goddamn private, asshole'. Sam was only ever interviewed by WWE magazine and they were more interested in catching shots of her bending over than asking what it was like dating a Superstar. It was news to the nurse stood there that this Diva was dating Don. She couldnt wait to finish her shift to spread the news online.

"Well, he should be out shortly. Someone will come around to speak about...his rehab" she told Sam. "And you had a call from a..." she checks the sheet, tries to read the name, almost slaps herself in the head when she realises who the name belongs to. "Randy Orton?" Sam looks up sharply, shakes her head. "I'm not taking calls from him" she snaps and her voice is so cold the nurse stops what shes' doing and stares a little. Sam doesn't say anything else, offers no information and the nurse nods to herself, before leaving the room.

Sam's tears are replaced by a cold anger. Randy just left them there. He might hate Don's drinking but he'd left him there to die. There'd been no Good Samiritan in Randy, he'd turned his back on Don...and on her. His supposed friend and Randy had shut them both out. At that moment, right then, running her hands through her hair, she hated Randy. Don could have died and the blood would have been on his hands. How the hell did you just leave someone like that? For all his drinking, for all the violence and the insults Don came out with, he was honest. He was true to his word. He'd never pull such a cheap stunt just to get her to feel guilty about going back to Don. No, Randy had made it perfectly clear. Her title belt was wrapped around the bedpost, he could have the damn thing back. She wouldn't tag team with him. In fact, where was her phone? Sam dug inside her bag, found it, called Stephanie McMahon. Trying to make her exhausted voice sound more upbeat than she felt, Sam explained she wanted to relinquish the tag team belt. Stephanie sounded off, like she was looking at or listening to someone else. Sam wasn't sure but she thought she could hear Randy arguing in the background. When Stephanie eventually said she'd tell Orton, she asked if Sam wanted to speak to him, he'd come in the office a few moments ago. Sam gave a curt no and hung up.

She was staring out the window, watching the endless grey sky when she heard a female voice talking to Don. "Yes sir, your girlfriends' here. She's been waiting the entire time. No sir I can't push you faster. Sir, sit down. You can't walk yet. Sir...I'm asking you once more" Don must have calmed because the woman continued, "How long have you been together...Sir, I'm not being insidious, just curious. She's very pretty" Now they were closer Sam could hear his beautiful gravelly, growly voice, raising her eyes briefly to Heaven in thanks. "Well Sir, if you ever break up..." At that moment Sam could clearly hear every swearword Don knew being ground out at this nurse and she wanted to laugh.

In the hospital bed, the nurse checked his obs, looked between them again and then left. Sam fought the urge to jump on his bed. Don slid his hands under his back, moving gingerly and sat up a little. He groaned aloud as the movement tugged at his stitches. Turns to look at Sammy, "Hey sweetness". Sammy started to cry again, forgetting he was fresh out of surgery and kneeling on the bed to hug him. She covered his face in gentle kisses, holding tight to him as Don's arms locked around her so fiercely Sam had trouble breathing. He held her jaw, ran his eyes over her face like he was trying to imprint every feature on his mind and kissed her. Cups the back of her head, runs his fingers through the long hair. Breaks the kiss to speak against her lips, "Told you I'd be back" Sam nods, wiping her eyes. Don smooths the tears from her cheeks with his fingertips. "Get in" he tells her. Sam looks at him. His face is white, the pain held back by the medication. There are dark hollows under his eyes and he has a cannula in his right hand. She can feel the shifting of the dressing against her ear when he moves his hand along her jawline. When she looks down, the dressing gown covers his wound. "Won't I hurt you?" she asks. Don snorts. "No sugar. I'm drugged up to the eyeballs" he promises, "Wanna see my scar?" he asks, holding the back of her head as she rests it in the crook of his neck. "Show off" she tells him. "Is it big?" she asks after a moment. Don fights a smile, "Sure. Wanna know what else is big?" Sam giggles hard against his shoulder.

He gestures for her to undo the gown at the top. "Fucking things choking me" he mutters. Sam undoes it, sliding it off the broad shoulders. Don's tattoo spread across his left shoulder meets her gaze and she kisses it, dropping the gown to one side. Don reaches up and curls his hand around her neck. Sam's chest is right against his back, warm against his spine. He growls low when she whispers in his ear. "Sammy" he says after a moment, "You're gonna have to move". Sam stops hugging from behind immediately, looking scared. "Did I hurt you? Do you need the nurse?" she asks, moving gingerly to the side of the bed so she's not touching Don at all. He snorts with laughter, gestures she should come back. "No. I'm hard" he stated "And unless you want the nurses in here cause you're screaming, you need to stop". Sam arched an eyebrow at him, blows him a kiss. "Makes you think I'd give it up to you in here?" she comments. Don tugs the sheet down around his stomach, shows her the new stitches. "This. I'm gonna play the sympathy angle for as long as it lasts Sammy" he promises. She leant over him, feeling his gaze go right down her shirt as she looks at the new scar. "Want me to kiss it?" Don's heated eyes meet hers. "Want me to fuck you?" he replies.

Sam's reply is drowned out by someone knocking on the door. "For fu.." Don spits, "They said someone was coming round to speak about your treatment" Sam said, getting off the bed gently and going to the door. But the person on the other side of the door wasn't anyone to do with rehab. Shane McMahon stood looking back at her. Somethings not right. Stephanie was off and now Shane is here in person. Sam looks back at Don and he sits up straighter, reading the concern in her eyes. "Sammy, its okay. Show him in" he orders and Sam gives Shane a stare before she allows him into the room. The heir apparent stands at the hospital bed and he cant look at Don or Sam. Thats the second clue somethings' up. He's silent for a moment before he asks, "How are you Don?" Don grunts, "I'm half an hour out of surgery Shane, how do you think I am?" Shane looks down at a piece of paper in his hand, looks at Sam. "Sam, you had a phone call from Randy Orton? I take it you didnt answer it?" Sam shakes her head. Don cracks his knuckles, recently returned surgical patient that he is. "That asshole called here? You did right Sammy" so proud of her he'd pick her up and spin her round right now if his guts wouldn't fall out the wound if he tried.

"And you've said you're relinquishing the belt?" Don tenses. "Sammy? The belt?" Knows how hard she's worked for this. How much she wants that belt. How much she likes tag teaming. He'll be out of action for a while. "You're gonna give up the belt?" he asks. Sam folds her fingers through his, he clenches his fist around hers. "Yes. Randy knows why. He gave me an ultimatum. Don or the belts. Its no choice" she said. Shane looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"The thing is..." "Just spit it out" Don snaps. This guy's gonna run the WWE one day and he cant even talk right. Hell, they're all screwed. "Randy Orton's issued a challenge for the next pay per view" Sam shrugged, "So he has to find another tag team partner for it" she told Shane. Shane shook his head. "Not for you and him. Against Don" Don shrugged. "His funeral". Sam made a loud, unintelligible noise that had both of them looking at her. "Don's literally just come out of surgery. Randy saw what he was like. This is just like that coward to go and have a match now. You tell him he fights me instead" she growled. "Sammy! Don't be an idiot. You're not fighting Orton" Don barked and his eyes are like anthracite when she looks at him. "Neither are you" she bites back and he has to swallow his smirk. "Randy knows that Don can't wrestle. You choose a representative and he'll fight for you" Shane explains. Don shrugs again, "Fine. Batista" he says without a seconds thought. Sam nods. Dave and Don go back a long way. They're both addicts, one to sex and one to drink. Dave and she get along well, Sam's one of the few Divas not to try to change him, accepts him the way he is. Dave likes that, likes how devoted she is to Don. He likes that he can drink with Don and Sam joins them, not tuts or fights. Don and Dave are as close as Don will allow him to be. Batista's perfect. "Batista's great" she tells him and Don grins at her, "I know" turns to Shane, "Batista'll kill him and we can all go home happy".

"The match will be this Sunday" Sam looks round in suprise. This Sunday is a Smackdown PPV. Neither Randy, she, Don or Dave are Smackdown. Shane sees her suprise. "Randy Orton's very insistent about this particular match" he tells her and Sam wonders exactly what kind of dirt Randy has on the McMahons. He shouts, they jump. "Whatever" Don grumbles, "Pass me my phone and Dave'll take care of it. Then when I'm back, I'll pound the fucking shit out of the arrogant asshole. 3rd generation is as far as he'll get. Be no goddamn 4th generation cause Ill cut the pricks' balls off" Shane winces.

"Um" he says as Don turns his phone on. Don feels ice like slivers pierce his chest. Feels a cold hand settle on his spine. "The rest of it. Now" he orders. Something makes him look at Sam. She's as close to the bed as she can get, holding onto his hand, looking at his wrist, tracing the forearm muscles with her eyes. She can feel it too,c an see it in her eyes as she looks up at him, bites her lip.

"Its a 30 day stipulation match" Sam shakes her head, "I don't get it". Don freezes in the bed, goes so ice cold Sam has to look at him quickly, fearing some kind of reaction to the surgery. What she sees scares her. Don's face is as pale as Death. There's a look of intense need in his eyes, loneliness as he turns them on her. Sam gets scared too. Don gets what the match is. "Sammy, come here" Don urges, shifting painfully in the bed. "If Randy loses, he's tied to Don for 30 days. Whatever matches Don wants, whatever promos. Basically whatever" Shane explains. "If Batista loses?" Don asks and his voice is hoarse.

"Then Sam goes to Randy for 30 days".


	8. Chapter 8

"What if we say no?" Sam asked, focusing dead ahead on Shane. She can't look at Don, can't drink in the dark, messy hair or the shadowy whiskers because if she does she's going to cry and she's already cried too much today. Knows he doesn't like it when she cries. Her voice shakes but she frowns at him, keeps it together. Next to her Don is silent, frozen still. 30 days. "Then you get fired" Shane says.

"Then I get fired" Don spits "Tell that goddamn asshole no and fire me" he growls. His fists are clenched tight in the bedsheets, the knuckles white and bloodless. Don's face, already tired from surgery is bleached bone scary. "Not you" Shane says and Don understands. The noise coming from his throat frightens Sam more than the sound he makes crashing along the hallway in the dark, drunk to his teeth. His voice when he unleashes it, is worse than his drunken rages, because this time Don is sober. Sam interrupts, holds a hand up to Don. He takes it, bends it so sharply she's wincing but she talks anyway, despite the anthracite eyes glaring at her. "So, if we don't fight, then I get fired? Then fire me" she tells Shane. Let her be fired. She'll go to TNA, ROH, hell she'll go anywhere. "Sammy" Don barks, "Shut up. Shut the hell up" He's spitting mad, trying to get out of the bed. And he can't because he's just had surgery and he's 45 not 25 and its killing him. Bites back a groan and Sammy grabs his arm, wrenches him back down. "Sit. Before I staple you to the bed" she warns and Don sees the real anger in her eyes. "You can't get fired Sammy. You're young and this is your career" he warns in that dangerous voice. Turns to Shane without speaking to her again. "Tell that prick we'll take it. Batista will take my place" he orders. Shane nods and leaves, glad to get out of there. The tensions' rising rapidly between Don and Sam. He looks like he just got shot and she looks like she needs to find a corner quick.

In the room, it feels worse than when Don's drunkenly yelling at her. He glares at her, face a mask of fury and Sam knows its not at her. "Dave'll win though" she says confidently, looking at Don. Letting her eyes play over his dark ones, the creases at the corners of his eyes. Sam bites her lip. Dave has to win, there isn't another option. She wants to cry, needs to, but knows if she does it'll hurt Don. Checks her watch. "Can we have pizza for tea?" she asks. Don gives her quizzical glance, black underneath the eyebrows. Smirks out one side of his mouth. His whole world could get destroyed and Sammy's hungry. "Sure Sammy" and he throws his wallet to her. He can see her eyes are too bright and she's twitching like a cat on crack. Sam nods and leaves and when she does Don scrubs his eyes with his fists. God damn Randy Orton to the bowels of Hell. Ignores the pain in his side as he reaches for his phone, dials Dave's number.

Sam gets maybe halfway down the corridor before she stumbles, knocks into a half open door. There's a little old lady sat in the hospital bed, eyeing her with sympathy. The old lady takes in the fragile little thing stood in the doorway and waves her in. "Come in pet, you'll catch your death out there. What's the matter?" And Sam breaks down to some random old lady in a bed, who could be in for heroin od for all Sam knows. She tells the old lady the whole story and while Mrs. Whoever she is has never heard of Don, or Dave or Randy Orton, she listens. Seems to understand quitting isn't an option but Sam doesn't want to leave Don. She tuts when she hears Don's an alcoholic but Sam's so used to it she doesn't hear. Instead she pats Sam's head when she rests it on the bed, lets the woman cry it out against the sheets. And when she's done there's a frantic ache in Sam's chest like nothing will be alright until the PPV is over and Dave's won, but she isn't crying anymore. "I'm sorry" she tells the lady, "I came in here and dumped on you. I don't even know your name. Thanks for helping me" she adds, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Old lady hands her a tissue. "Anytime dear. I'm Eleanor. It'll be okay with you and your man. Even if you have to part" she says and Sam nods. A little while later she leaves the room.

Don closes the phone just as Sam comes back in. She has three boxes of pizza, Don's favourite flavours and she puts them on the bed, clambers up next to him. He glances at her, her eyes are red rimmed and her face is tearstained. "Sammy" he grunts and she pauses halfway to a slice. "You could have just done that in here" he adds. She shrugs, "You don't like crying". Don looks exasperated. "Sammy, I'll take anything you have. Anything you do. Don't shut me out". Her eyes well again with tears and he snorts, puts a finger underneath her eyes. "If you're gonna bawl, let me move the pizza so you don't waterlog the pepperoni". She starts to laugh and nods, wiping her eyes again and there's peace in the moments that they're eating. Don says nothing about the words he told Dave. "I found a little old lady called Eleanor" she says after a while. He's dragging his knuckles over her calf slowly, looks up. "You found a little old lady?" Sam nods. Tells him what the old lady says. He nods, "See. Listen to your elders. Like me" he says.

Sunday is less than a day and a half away by the time they finish eating. The night that passes is one of the most painful Sam's ever had. She went to sit in the armchair but Don caught her hand, so now she's curled up against him on the bed, his chin on top of her hair. And she doesn't sleep, not when the night starts to close in and they can hear the nurses walking up and down the hallway. Visiting hours are over but no-one comes in to tell her to leave. They're either too scared of Don or they feel sorry for the woman curled on the bed with him. Sam doesn't sleep. She stares at Don's shoulder, at the tattoo there like the artwork could tell her how to get out of this. Thinks a thousand plans that run nowhere. Some of them involve murdering Randy. She's wondering whether Don would wait the 10 years she'd be in jail when she realises Don isn't sleeping either. His breathing is too harsh, too drawn out. He's not in pain, Sam's made sure of that, the man's pumped so full of morphine he ordered her to stop before he "became a junkie as well as an alchie" But Don isn't sleeping. Sam glances down at her watch. Its 4am. A new day's already started, bringing them closer still to the PPV and it makes her scream inside. Sam curls herself further into Don, careful not to touch his surgery area. He brings up a hand and cups her shoulder, a little harshly. Like he's scared of losing her, which he is, he just won't say it out loud to Sammy. Hears her breathe in with a little catch in her voice. "Don" she whispers. He grunts. "You asleep?" Don drops his chin so he's looking at her, the beautiful baby blues looking back up at him. "No" he grumbles. "Can't" They both know it isn't the pain or the surgery keeping him awake. "Neither can I" she admits. "You should sleep" Don orders and he's about to ring for the nurse, give her some damn sedatives so she can catch some z's, when Sammy wraps a hand around his wrist too tight.

"What do we do if Dave doesn't win?" she asked, staring up at him. She's frightened and its in her eyes and he vows he'll kill Randy Orton if its the last thing he does. Wonders if Sammy would wait while he was in jail. Hears that catch in her voice again. "If he doesn't" Don starts, "We'll find a way through it" he promises. "You're not getting away Sammy, believe me" She snorts, "Like I want to". And then Don tells her exactly what he's arranged while she was out getting pizza. Randy's already stipulated their phones will get confiscated. At least, the pink glittery thing Sam owns will be and Don's sleek black thing. The ones he knows about anyway. Don has arranged new ones cause he has no plans not to speak to her for a month. Sam listens as he tells her about everything he has planned and she smiles, but she wishes it didnt have to be like this. Wishes Randy could just do his bleeding heart act somewhere else. Somewhere around 6am she sleeps, fitfully and stirring in the bed. She shivers with some nightmare and Don never sleeps.

The day that passes, passes in a blur. Sam doesn't notice when Dave comes to visit them, barely hears him when he promises to do his best. Doesn't see Don's eyes on her. She ignores Randy's phone calls. Tells the nurse who says Randy's at the nurses' station to tell him to go to hell. With wide open eyes Sam never sees the rehab guy who comes to see Don. She doesn't hear Don refer himself, or hear how his 30 days away from her will be mostly spent in rehab by day and the ring by night. She never sees the surgeons come to check Don. Shane McMahon passes in a blur. A man with a case comes to see Don and too slow she realises its the local Soldier. Trust Don to try the Mob. Someone else comes to see Don and he sends her out of the room. Sam's too sad to be intrigued, not even when she comes back in and Don's eyes are suspiciously bright. It's Saturday evening all too quickly.

Tomorrow's the match. The surgeons will release Don for the PPV if he doesn't wrestle, so he can accompany Sam.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam added what must be the 6th layer of top coat to her nails, painstakingly focusing on wiping the brush across perfectly. Thanks to her nervousness, she had showstopping nails. She'd thought the intricate task of painting them baby pink, coupled with adding a layer of diamontes to each nail and glossing it, giving her nails worthy of any Singapore Beauty Queen, would have calmed her jangled nerves. They were so covered in bling they sparkled under the lights in the locker room, but even their pale pink sheen didn't help. Sam glanced sideways at Don, who should have been pacing while holding his nose and claiming Sammy was trying to kill him with the acetone smell, or else he should have left the room for a drink like he usually did when she wanted to paint her nails. But he'd stayed, was laid on the couch, one hand over his aching surgical scar. Don hadn't said a word about the smell, hadn't said much about anything. There was a look on his face that hurt her.

"Don?" she asked. He shifts slightly, sits up slowly and hides a grimace from her. Goddamned scar is killing him. "Yeah Sammy" doesn't want to look at her, can't look at her. Cause if he does... "Do you think my nails are pretty?" He glances at them, pink and glittery. "You look like a Powerpuff" he comments roughly, stands up, glances at his reflection. He looks so much older than his years right now. Sammy, all dress and nails, makeup and that long, flowing hair he wants wound round his fingers right now, looks so much younger. She smiles, looks at her outfit once again. Sam thought spending forever on her appearance might make her stop thinking about this match, about not having Don for 30 days. It didnt. The result is she's wearing a chocolate coloured maxi dress, belted around her waist, bangles crawling up one arm and her hair loose in some kind of bohemian twist Don once said was "pretty". The pink swirls in the dress match her nails and her makeup is picture perfect, but she still sees a sad little girl when she looks in the mirror. Don's in his normal 'appearances' gear; suit pants and a dark mossy green long sleeved silk shirt that brings out the darkness in his eyes. Underneath the hollow gaze Sam sees the shadows where he hasn't slept, watches how he's stood favouring that side. She'd do anything not to go. "You think if i went to speak to him..?" she asks for the hundredth time and for the hundredth time Don shakes his head.

He stretches painfully as he paces the room, head buried and Sam watches him walk back and forth, the long, lean strides troubled. His left hand twitches and she knows Don's dying for a drink. The gorilla guy knocks on the door, tells them five minutes, start making their way and Sam's eyes when they meet his are frightened stupid. His face goes into this mask she can't read and he straightens, reaches for her hand, locks it in his. "Listen Sammy, if Dave loses then we won't be apart for the whole month...we'll see each other" he promises. "Dave's not you. You could win this match so easily" Sam vows and Don smirks arrogantly, "I know". As he holds open the door, holds her hand, Don warns her, "If he loses, don't start crying. Keep your head up".

They make it to gorilla and she's still holding Don's hand, listening to the hubbub of backstage around her, wanting to be anywhere else. Why did no-one ever tell her life was going to be this hard? Isn't it bad enough her boyfriend is an alcoholic? She has to have a psycho friend bent on vengeance too? But she loves Don and right now she could cheerfully murder Orton. Don's hand clenches hers tightly and she can see the pain in his eyes that he's trying to hide. His music hits 'Enter Sandman' and she remembers the first time she saw him come out , that music playing. Suddenly Sam wants to stop, to hold him and tell him she loves him because she has a weird feeling nothings going to be the same. Sam has an awful feeling deep down in the pit of her stomach that Dave wont win this match. Don looks down at the top of her head and he wants to stop, tell her what she means to him because he has the same awful feeling. He has a foreboding that Randy Orton is young, fit, not an alcoholic, handsome if you like the all American face like the ass of a bus kind of look. Randy Orton would be the easiest, simplest choice for Sammy. What if a month away from him makes her realise that? What if he loses Sammy? What if she never comes back? But he swallows every last one of those thoughts and leads her out, to where the crowds are cheering and the lights are flashing.

Neither of them notice. Neither of them notice the signs in the crowd for them, neither of them notice how JR looks sympathetic. Don stands for a moment as his fireworks flare and die. "I should have done this a long time ago Sammy" he mutters and then looks her way. "Come out with you I mean. Damn good looking escort" he cracks and she laughed. Thats another thing Randy's taken away from them. Don's surgery has meant he's been in pain this last day. She hasn't even slept with him to say goodbye. God knows she wanted to. God knows he wanted to. If Don had used the word 'horny' any more times today and she grins, reminding him of it as they round the ring to where there's two chairs set up next to King. Don takes the first one next to him, knows Sammy wont want his flirting tonight. Normally she has better comebacks than Jericho but tonight she's off.

Randy Orton makes his appearance and Don tightens in his chair. His jaw is so rigid its hurting Sam. The veins in his forearms bulge as he moves and the hand on hers is painful. She doesn't move it. JR is trying to talk to her, trying to get her to make some comment and Sam doesn't remember what she says, just that JR laughed. Don's comments are easy, which doesn't match with the pulse in his neck or the total lack of expression on his face. Makes some crack about how he could kill for a drink, he might kill Randy for one. Randy circles the ring and comes towards her. There's an apology written on his face as he looks at Sammy. Its easy to see what this is doing to her, the worst kind of pain is splashed all over her features. But when he tries, Don stands up quickly, starts towards him. There's murder in the older mans' features and not for the first time Randy wonders what he's started. But when he sees Sam's face stare up at Don and the pain thats on it, he knows he has to give her time away from him, let her see exactly what kind of slow seeping poison her boyfriend is. To show her what someone else, what someone like him is like. Dave's music starts and he turns to watch Don's friend come down the ramp. Randy and Dave stopped being friends after Evolution, one of the few times a storylines ever told it right. He knows this mans addiction too and it isn't hard to see why he and Don are friends. Dave's look is one of hatred. Randy's coming between Don and Sam, and Dave doesn't like it. Don and Sam is none of Randy's business.

It all seems to go well. Randy and Dave are equally matched. There's a spinebuster and there's a neckbreaker. Sam is on the edge of her seat and she has a nervous quiver in her stomach thats making her want to be sick. She's leaning against Don more than ever and right now she doesn't care he's in pain on the side shes leaning on, she just wants to be as close as she possibly can to him. And Don doesn't seem to care either, raising his arm and lowering it around her shoulders, pulling her to him and kissing the top of her head in front of the WWE cameras. It ruins Don's tough image she knows, whispers it to him, but he doesn't let up. Randy sees it and he comes back at Dave harder. Its a brilliant wrestling match and one Sam would watch over and over again if this wasn't her life they were arguing over. She's wrestled with Randy, she knows how good he is. If she loses this match up, she'll have to tag with Randy for the next month. Without Don and tag teaming with the man who'd split them up. Sam thinks she'd rather slit her wrists. Knows how stupid the girls in the locker room think she is, upset because she might have to spend a month with Randy. They'd give their left boob to spend a month with Randy. She'd give anything not to have to.

At the hour mark, Randy pulls out knuckledusters he's had tucked in his pants. The ref doesn't see them, watching Dave lean over the ropes and talk to Sam. Don's swearing at him to pay attention when Randy clocks him right in the eye with the dusters. Don's on his feet, trying to point them out to the ref, yelling at him, cursing to pay some goddamn attention and open his eyes. Randy hides the knuckledusters like they were never there, slips out of the ring and folds them under the curtain, before showing the ref he has nothing on him. He turns to Don with inhuman blue eyes and smiles. Don's almost in the ring before Randy RKO's Dave out of nowhere, viciously and immediately. The blood loss around Dave's eye stops him seeing it coming, lands badly, twists his back. Randy pins him and the ref counts.

Randy wins.

Sam is on her feet, horrified. She looks towards Don with fear written in her eyes, her heart breaking. His face is unmoving. Only his eyes are shattering. As Randy slides out of the ring, coming for her quickly because he knows her instinct is to run, Don cuddles her, holds her tight against him and embraces her in front of the crowd again. When his lips rest against her neck he tells her to message him on the phone hes given her specifically, tell him which room she's in. Tells her to keep the door unlocked because he'll come for her. Warns her to keep her head up, not to show how much she's hurting. Wants to kiss her but Randy already has her.

Don watches Sam's spine straighten, sees her shake herself loose from Randy arrogantly and turn a cold stare on him. There's no emotion on her face as she walks next to Randy back up the ramp. None at all. No-one can see how much it hurts.

At least not out there. The moment she makes it back through gorilla she starts to cry and Randy can't stand it. Its painful, like she's tearing her lungs out and for a moment he just stands there. Sam's heart is breaking and there's nothing he can do, because he caused it. He tries to touch her and she throws him off violently. "Dont you touch me!" she hisses, pointing a perfect pink fingernail glittering with diamontes in his face. "This is your doing" she warns. Randy watches her a minute more, watches the tears fall down her face as she bends over in pain, holding her stomach. "Come on" he says softly, leading her out of the arena. He's meant to stick around, do some victory interviews. They'll be rescheduled for tomorrow, right now he needs to get Sam out before she turns and runs back to Don. Before she loses it completely. She's starting to cough because the tears are choking her.

As he reaches the doorway, he opens it, looks back. Don is stood at the bottom of the hallway, having followed Sammy out. Randy can't look at his face. He's never seen someone look like that. He turns his back on Don after giving him a victorious smirk, feeling like an ass for doing so. Leaves, takes Sam to the car.

Don hears Dave come up behind him. The man is bandaged from the trainers, holding his spine. One eye is swollen shut and Dave is trying to apologise. Don stares at him for a long time. It isn't Dave's fault. Its Randys. The fucker cheated. "Lets get drunk" Don says after a long moment. He doesn't want to tell Dave it wasn't his fault because Don feels like shit and he wants someone else to feel this pain too. He doesn't want anything, wants to go home alone but Dave agrees.


	10. Chapter 10

When she woke Don was gone. Sam sneaked one eye open and looked across at the empty space next to her, the pillow still indented where he'd been. She groaned and rolled over, almost hitting her head on the bedside cabinet. Her phone was placed right next to the pillow, the voicemail light blinking on and off rapidly right in her vision. Sam always placed it right on the edge, so message tones wouldn't wake her. Don must have moved it close to her. Sam sat up, rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and looked at the phone. The voicemail was from Don. She grinned and drew the sheet up around her as she pressed play, listened to his tired, grizzly voice tell her he'd left, she snored like a piglet, he'd left earlier than he wanted to – goddamn Randy he never should have left at all and he should be there right now with her – cause today was his first day at rehab. Sam listened to the message four times over, going for a fifth, just listening to his voice, when Randy knocked on the door so hard she dropped the phone in the sheets.

"You awake?" She mumbled something unintelligible and stumbled out of the bed, thankful for the flannelette pj's as she cracked open the door, met a bright eyed and bushy tailed Randy Orton far too early in the morning. "Yes. I'm awake. Oh God...the show right?" Sam said, taking in Randy's new jeans and the Affliction t shirt stretched tight over muscles. A pair of black sunnies hung from the neck of the t shirt, made her think about Don's reflective aviators and she sighed involuntarily. 29 days left. "In a little while. I thought you might need time to get ready" Sam glanced at him, "Thanks, thats thoughtful" she said, coming out of the room and walking blearily into the kitchen. Randy pointed her in the way of the bagels, poured her a cup of coffee and slid it across to her as she perched on one of the stools. Sam scrubbed her hair back out of her face and sipped on the hot coffee gratefully, sank back against the wall. She seemed a lot brighter to him, a little more rested, a little happier. It was only ruined when the clang of his coffee cup in the sink made a loud noise and she twitched, closed one eye, then opened it again. Sam gave a sheepish grin. "Sam.." Randy started and she arched an eyebrow. "No, you have to listen to me for 30 days now remember? You jump when there's loud noises. That isn't a healthy relationship" Sam deftly tossed her own mug into the sink, made the same loud noise and barely blinked at it. "You have to listen to me too, and its 29 days. You stole someone elses' girlfriend off a match you cheated on. Thats not a healthy relationship either Randall". He smirked, "Touche" She nodded, pleased with herself.

The hallway leading out of the meeting room in rehab had a television high in the corner. Glanced up at it as he walked through. The place wasn't so bad. He wasn't an idiot like Razor, he'd checked it out, done his homework the minute he'd seen Sam's face after he'd hit her. Picked somewhere he knew the smooth talking shit wouldn't piss him off and the touchy feely crap wouldn't have him knocking heads together. The result was something he could just about live with, cept for the Hi, I'm Don and I'm an alcoholic shit. Of course they were all freakin alcoholics, otherwise they wouldn't be here. Drove the piss out of him. Don stopped dead in front of the tv, turned the volume up. It was Ellen but that wasn't what caught his attention. Vince had organised a whole raft of promo crap for Sammy and that asshole, the first two hadn't gone down because his girl had flat out refused to do them. But this one must have gone ahead because Sammy was there, sat on the couch leaning away from Randy Orton, laughing at something Ellen said. She'd told him once she found the woman genuinely funny, Don found himself watching her smile. The way she was sitting her with her hands on her lap, the funny little tap Sammy did when she wanted out of somewhere but was too polite to say so. The outfit she was in, cute little sundress with heels, pushed her calves out, she looked like the hottest thing he'd ever seen. She was the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

One of the idiots he was in with came up next to him, goddamn stomping his way down the hall like elephants in stilettos. "Who's the babe?" Don shot him a filthy glance. "Oh come on, you got your eyes hanging out of your head. You know her?" the guy asked. Don didnt take his eyes off the tv as he ground out, "My girlfriend". The other guy looked up at the screen again. Randy was talking to Sam and she was replying, but her eyes were dead. The hand tapping on the couch was so noticeable now that Ellen was watching. "What a fine piece of ass" the guy said complimentarily. He didnt say anything else. Which wasn't for lack of trying. It was because Don's hand fastened around his throat so fast it closed off his air supply. Cursed the surgery as he shook the guy, slammed him back against the wall. "Open your mouth once more and you wont need no rehab, you'll need an undertaker" Don spat. Shook the guy once more and then let go when he heard Ellen ask about him. Asked some crap about they'd all seen the match and how was she coping away from Don.

Sammy looked down. She looked at her hands for a long moment, so long Ellen glanced at her manager. Her pretty face was still. Randy put a hand on her shoulder by way of comfort and Don growled low in his throat, watching. Saw Sam flick him a look that made him take his hand back off again. The party line she was supposed to say was – she was doing fine. What Sammy came out with was "I feel like shit". Ellen hastily had the curseword bleeped. Don woulda burst out laughing if it didnt cut him like a knife hearing her say it. Randy's face was a picture. One that told Don every single thing he needed to know. The prick was just like he thought. Didnt take Sammy away for her own good, fuck no, he took Sammy away because Randy loved her. Was written on his face, watching her with care and protectiveness and Don wanted to rip his skin from his bones and tear it through with knives. Sammy leant away a little when he tried to touch her, just enough but not noticeable to anyone who didnt know Sammy like Don did. Ellen broke the moment with a joke and Sammy laughed, crossed her legs and Don's eyes followed the motion.

The rest of the day passed for both of them: Sam with Randy, finishing Ellen, having lunch in some diner that was so like the ones Don took her too she could almost forget it was Randy instead of him. The pizza and the atmosphere made her laugh but the ache inside made her remember. For Don, it passed in a haze of black as he sat in rehab, seeing Sam's sorrow splashed out on national television. They broke from rehab early and he headed down Rodeo with his hands in his pockets, staring blankly at the reflective glass of the stores. Until he paused.

Sam tucked herself in that night, Randy in his bedroom and she in hers. Randy had the television in there, was on the phone to Vince and she didnt want to know what he was saying. Probably she wasn't playing by the rules and Sam really didnt want any more conversations. Randy had kept touching on wasn't it nice that she didnt have to worry about being sliced in her bed by a drunken madman and Sam was tired of it. To cheer herself up, she dressed in one of the pieces Don bought, slid between the sheets, replayed the phone message over again, put her head down on the pillow and tried to sleep. Ended up staring at the wall for what must have been hours, until sleep weighed her eyelids down.

They snapped open again when she felt the bed creak and weight sink onto it behind her. Ice cold lips underneath her ear and his growling, gruff voice right inside her brain. Sam exclaimed his name quietly and Don stuck his middle finger up at her, told her to shush, just let him...the lips by her ear drifted down slowly.

Randy turned the volume on the tv down, listened for a moment, turned it back up again. No, there it was again. He muted the volume and listened carefully. Sam was moaning. Quietly, like she was trying not to make any noise but couldnt help it. And not her painful moan she sometimes made in her sleep, like something hurt so badly she cried at night. Randy knew exactly what kind of moan that was. One that sent chills down his spine, made him pay a hell of a lot more attention than he had been previously. Sam gave a low, dirty minded sounding giggle, a soft, quiet moan and Randy had to do something before he knocked the wall down to get in there.

He stood, padded to her door. Knocked on it.

Don cursed silently and looked around the room, ended up throwing himself under the bed where the blankets hung down enough to cover him. He cursed louder as his healing wound hit the floor, the sound muffled when Randy slid open the door and it crunched on the carpet. Sam was caught halfway between a moan and wanting to laugh because it was funny. She hastily tugged the sheets up around her, tried to unclench her hands from where they'd been in Don's hair and clenched her thighs together. Crap. That didnt help at all. Not when she still had whisker marks on her thighs.

"Sam? What the hell are you doing?" Randy asked, then mentally kicked himself for it. It was obvious what she'd been up to. But Don and she were separated and they had no way of contacting each other. He knew that. "I'm..ah...helping myself Randy, whats it look like?" Randy leant against the doorframe, folded his arms, looked at the flushed face and the too bright eyes. "I figured that" he replied. Sam'd never looked so beautiful. She was still breathing heavily and it made him switch his position against the door so his response wasn't obvious. "You know.." Randy said and Sam half glared at him. "You don't have to do that alone". There was an evil sounding low rumble from under the bed. Randy didnt hear it because Sam dropped a book at the same moment. "What do you mean?" she asked, although it was obvious what he meant. But anything to distract him from the sound Don had just made. "I mean, you don't have to...you know. I can help" Randy said. The growl that Don was making was loud, Sam barely covering it with coughing. She got out of the bed, remembering at the last moment she was wearing a lace teddy that covered pretty much nothing. Randy's eyes dropped down, then back up and Sam grabbed a sheet hastily. "You get a good look Orton? Cause thats the last look you'll get. How dare you come in here and come out with that? I have a boyfriend you asshole. And I'm not about to cheat on Don. So you take yourself and your hand, and you go have your own fun. Stay away from me!" she ordered, picking up a pillow and throwing it. It caused the sheet to sag on her and Randy caught an eyeful, before he caught the furious glare in her eyes. "Alright" he laughed, throwing up his hand to fend off another pillow. "Okay. Deal with it yourself" he said, backing out of the room, closing the door. Going back into his own room and banging his head against the wall. Now both of them had the same problem.

Don slid out from under the bed quicker than a man of his age and fresh from surgery should have been able to. His face was black with rage as he stood. "Don" Sam said quickly. The look on his face was the same one she'd seen before. But this time Don was sober. Don didnt reply, heading for the door and she knew where he was going. To kill Randy. Sam threw herself off the bed and in front of him before he got to the door, just barely, crashing up against his chest. "Don don't! He'll know you've been here and you wont be able to come back again. I cant go the rest of the time alone" Sam pleaded. Don actually had his hand raised before the human light came back into his eyes and he lowered it, cupping her hip. Couldnt think straight. Couldnt get past that asshole and his offer. The fear that had been repeating itself over and over since Sam had walked out the arena door with Randy was screaming inside his head. Randy was younger. Randy was top of his game. Randy loved her. Randy didnt get drunk and hit her, didnt scare her with alcohol fuelled rages or call her any of the names Don did when he was drunk. Randy wouldn't make her jump. Now the fear was dancing in his mind. Sam and Randy.

It made him lash out at her, made him push her away from him, shove her back. "You're protecting him?" And goddamn him he knew she wasn't protecting Randy, she was desperate to keep Don there. But Don couldnt say it, couldnt tell her he was scared she'd leave and go with Randy, because Randy was so clearly offering it, because he couldnt. And it made him push Sam away, even as she stood there shocked. "I'm not protecting him! Im not! I don't care about him. You saw me get him out of here. Don!" Sam said. Don left.


	11. Chapter 11

Randy couldn't settle, not after seeing her like that. Couldnt get the vision out of his mind no matter how many times he paced the room. He'd expected Sam's response to be honest. She was loyal, faithful, honest. She wouldn't cheat on Don. And if she was with Randy, she wouldn't cheat on Randy either. The thing was, he just had to get her to see that Don and she would go nowhere, Sam would be stuck in that same dead end position for the rest of her life, caring for an aging junkie. Resisting the urge to continue banging his head against the wall, he stepped out into the kitchen, looked for milk. Anything.

Sam's bedroom door was open, which intrigued him because he knew he'd shut it when he left. It was ajar just a crack, showing the edge of the bedspread, white and hanging down on the ground. Sam was sat cross legged in the middle of the bed, the lace teddy she had on covered by a man's t shirt, much too long for her. She was crying, softly, quietly, but snuffling as she sat. He wouldn't have known if he hadn't come out, but Sam was crying. Randy didnt think twice about going in there again, pushing the door open a little. "Sam?" She looked up, too miserable to care what she looked like or that Randy was back at the door again. "Hi" she said, wiping her nose on Don's t shirt, "Did I wake you?". Randy shook his head, opened the door fully. "No. I couldnt sleep. Something was on my mind" he answered truthfully. Sam didnt pick up the entendre, sat there curling the sheets inbetween her fingers. "Is it okay if I watch some tv?" she asked after a minute, looking around the bedroom like it held nightmares. Randy nodded and watched her pad by in just the t shirt, hanging right down to her calves. Sam curled up on the couch, the smallest ball he'd ever seen anyone make themselves into and flicked the television on, watching the image without any interest. She wiped her eyes now and again. Randy went back into the kitchen, poured a glass of milk, sprinkled cinnamon on the top and brought it back, passing it to her. Sam took it dejectedly, then sniffed it. "Has cinnamon on it" she said curiously, looking at him from under her eyelashes.

"Yeah, it'll help you sleep. Old trick. My mom used to try it" Randy explained. Sam took a sip and gave him a weak smile. "Good idea". He sat on the couch next to her, looked across. "Whats the matter?". Sam rubbed tears away again, said nothing. "Don?" she nodded, her lips crinkling into the unhappy grimace someone makes when they're trying not to cry. "Hey..its okay" Randy said, opening his arms, "Come here". Sam shifted across the couch quickly, leant against his chest and promptly cried so hard it soaked his t shirt. She was saying something but it came out as a mangled mess of words against his shoulder. He tried not to think her mouth was over his pectoral muscle or his right hand was dangerously near the curve of her ass. Sam cried against him. "I love him so much" she said and Randy was brought crashing back down to earth with a thud. "He has this idea" Sam added and runny eyes looked up at him. He smiled back down at her, fought the urge to wipe the tears away. "That you're going to steal me away from him" she finished sadly. Randy froze holding her. Don wasn't as stupid as he looked then. He thought he'd played it so well, but the alcohol fuelled mind had managed to figure it out. Or else it was just the usual obsessive jealousy he'd seen Don display over Sam. "He's worried that I'll go off with you cause you're younger...or some kind of crap like that. And he thinks I didnt guess it and he wont tell me" she told him. "And I'm not. I'm not going to leave him and he thinks that and now he wont talk to me and now its all gone wrong and..." she started to cry harder against his shoulder, the little shoulders shaking. Randy hid his puzzlement, Don wasn't talking to her anyway. The first time they'd see each other would be at NXT tomo..he checked his watch..today. But he understood Don's fear, knew he'd have it if the situation was reversed. He just didnt understand Sam's tears. Don had offered him a way out unconsciously. If he could just get Sam to think Don had finished with her once and for all, that Don was untrustworthy because he wouldn't share those fears with her. But now wasn't the time to tell her any of that, not when she was crying in his arms. He knew Sam was at the end of her rope or she wouldn't be anywhere near him. "Hurts" she mumbled quietly and Randy bit the inside of his cheek. He hated Don. Hated him beyond anything he'd ever thought possible.

Don walked the night, hands burrowed in his pockets until he found his mobile. Rang Stephanie McMahon. Knew the woman had, had the hots for him for years. Don didnt even see her as human, but it wouldn't hurt to play on it just a little to get what he wanted right now. He waited for her to pick up, listened to her rant about did whoever was calling know what time it was? When he told her who he was, her voice changed, became sultry, tried to flirt. Don's tone was as soft as he could make it to someone he didnt care about, which was pretty much everyone except Sammy. It sounded false to his own ears as he asked how she was, how was the family? when he'd finished lying through his teeth he made his requests.

A match. At the end of the 30 days, a week after, when his surgery had healed. When rehab was done. Don felt it in himself that he was sharper now he hadn't drunk for a day or two. If he could keep it, he could train harder. If he could train harder, he could be back where he was before even Sammy came along. Show her who he'd been all the time. Then he'd kill Randy Orton. Lay him flat out in the ring and rip him limb from limb until no dr could give him a ring career ever again. Until Orton was left as an announcer, some backstage talent.

Plane tickets to Vegas.

Stephanie's exclusive line to Tiffany's.

She baulked a little on the last one, wanted to know why. When he told her, she gave such a loud squeal he heard Hunter wake up next to her.

And when it was done, Don dropped the phone back into the leather, went back to staring at nothing, bleary eyed and in pain. His wound ached and his throat killed for a beer. Randy and Sam. Don wouldn't let it happen, not if he could help it. He knew what he wanted and what he wanted was Sammy. But he was smart enough to know what the better choice for her was. Younger, sober, less violent, less of an asshole than Don knew he was. The pain unfurled in his chest, let him feel it properly. Randy had offered, stood there in that room and all but taken Sam right there and then. Don smirked as he remembered Sammy. Pushing him away, pushing him back but how long until she gave in? Don thought of how he'd knocked her away when all he wanted was to bring her so close to him he'd feel every breath she took. And he knew, like he knew his own name, she'd be crying right now. And Orton would be there to comfort her.

One last phone call. One last phone call to a drunk who was worse than he was. To a drunk who would come through for him like Don had come through for him in the past. Who'd understand. He dialled the number and the guy was up, always up. Cirrhosis of the liver doesn't let you sleep much, kind of a bitch that way.


	12. Chapter 12

Sam looked at the outfit options for NXT in front of her and couldn't give a damn about any of them. She didn't want to get dressed, she didn't want to go. Sam wanted to lay back down on the couch and watch television some more, watch banal reality tv shows until she forgot her own life. What made it worse was she knew this was getting dangerous. The length of time that she couldn't feel anything, the length of time she was crying, made her worry she'd end up in some kind of depression. But none of it really mattered when Don had up and walked out of the room.

The only thing that was making her even head to NXT was the fact he'd be there. Sam didn't know whether he'd talk to her or not, whether his walking out of the room was his I Think You're Going To Run Off With Randy fear or whether he'd decided to finish it. Somewhere deep down she knew this wasn't Sam. She should have been dressing and telling Don to go to hell just like she did every single time they got in an argument. She should be wearing the sexiest outfit she could find and parading it in front of him in the ring, like she always did. Sighing, she decided to do just that, pulled out the soft black leather, the coat. Her eyes, when she lined them sometime later with kohl, heavily shadowed, looked back at her flatly and she almost scrubbed her face clean. It was all very well and good to have confidence when she knew Don loved her and was going home with her tonight. Right now...

Her thoughts were interrupted by a heavy knock at the door and Randy's cursing. After she'd cried against him for what must have been the best part of the early morning he'd put her back to bed, let her sleep. Sam must have slept for hours because when she woke Randy had gone to work out. He'd come back only a few minutes ago and was currently in the kitchen making some kind of protein drink she had no idea about. Good thing he'd answered the door, Sam wasn't in the mood to speak to the maid.

Randy stuck his head through the open door, a weird kind of look on his face. Like he knew something that would make her happy, but he didnt like who it came from. "There's someone here for you" he told her. "Don?" Sam sat up straight and cast her reflection one more look. "Who the hell's Don?" came a voice and Sam's flat expression cracked into the biggest smile Randy had seen on her face since Don had come to their training session at the ring before the Championship match. "I don't know no Don. I know some cigar smoking ass rang me up late at night bitchin'" Randy watched Sam's face still. Although the man was clearly mocking Don there was no annoyance on Sam's face. Instead she stood, smoothed down the leather and zipped it up higher on her chest, moving to look outside her door at the newcomer. "Where is she? Hey...Don's woman! Get out here!"

Sam's smile could have lit up the sky as she saw him. "My name is Sammy, asshole" she said, throwing open her arms. " Fine, Sammy asshole, c'mere and give me a hug. Then don't tell Don or he'll use my guts as floss". Sam stepped forward, let Scott Hall throw his arms around her. Inhaled the scent of whisky and vodka that was even stronger than Don's. She hugged him tightly, too tightly and Razor's arms held on right back. He felt her sigh sadly against him and drew away, slapping her cheeks with his hands. "Why the face? Oh right...30 days. Where is this moron you're staying with anyway?" Randy cleared his throat and Scott turned to meet a face filled with annoyance. "Randy Orton" Randy said, folding his arms and raising his chin arrogantly. "You are?". Scott Hall blew out his bottom lip, smoothed a hand back over the long, dark hair and snorted. "Fuck boy, where the hell you grow up? Sammy asshole, you go ahead and tell this long streak of piss who the hell I am". The voice was so much like Don's Randy wanted to strangle him. The same drunk drawl, although Don's was like that whether he was drunk or not, the same easy, slow way of talking while the quick dark eyes flashed above a face too languid for the violence it was capable of. It was like looking at Don.

"This" Sam said, resting a fond hand on Razor's arm, "Is Scott Hall, otherwise known as Razor Ramon. Otherwise known as Don's homeboy. Otherwise known as my favourite man in the world ever!" Sam exclaimed, throwing her arms around him again. Scott returned the hug with an expression on his face that told Randy somewhere along the line Scott had fancied her rotten. Obviously, somewhere along the line Don had set him straight. "Easy. Don't make your old man mad" Scott said, settling back from her and tipping her head up with a finger to check her out. "You got bags the size of my Vuittons under your eyes woman. You look like shit. What the hell is with all the war paint?" he said, smoothing a finger through her carefully applied foundation. Scott turned her away from Randy and led her to the couch, ignoring Randy and the fact it was his hotel room like none of it mattered. Sat her down and leaned in, "He treating you right? Are you eating? When was the last time you got smashed?" Sam nodded, nodded again, yelped as she checked out the now smudged reflection in the mirror, drew out her foundation and talked back in the same rapid fire pitch Scott was talking in. It was like she'd come alive again. Randy had said he hated Don a lot these past few days, but he'd say it again now. It was obvious Don had called Scott and told him to come here, knowing it would cheer Sam up. "Last time I...hmm...two weeks ago? Don took me to this movie he wanted to see, a Hammer horror thing and I got scared and..." she drifted off and glanced at Randy briefly. He had the notion she told Razor a hell of a lot more about Don than she told him. "We got smashed and I fell over in the fountain and Don said he about pissed himself laughing". Scott snorted again, "In the fountain? Don once fell off a bridge bout 3 feet high cause he was singing Sinatra and not watching the fuck out" Razor said. "Really? He didn't tell me that one. He said you fell in" Sam retorted and Scott winced "Ok, we both fell in".

"Excuse me" Sam turned around, as if just remembering Randy was there. "Is there a reason you just came in here ? Are you here to see Sam for a reason or just abuse this place?" he asked. He hated the way he sounded but Scott was bugging the crap out of him. Serious groundway had been made when Sam had let him in while she was crying and Scott was neatly making her forget all of that. She frowned at Randy, smoothed her leather out again. "This asshole always this uptight?" Scott asked, drew out a small flask from his pants and took a sip. "Here Sammy, take a sip. And I'll tell you why I'm here" he said, drawing another small flask out and drinking from that as Sam sipped from the first one. She coughed violently and handed it back while he laughed. "What on earth is that?" Scott sniffed it experimentally. "I think..perhaps...it could be absinthe and Red Bull". "Great. Now I'll be high" she muttered good naturedly. "I said I'll tell you why I'm here" Scott continued, "Right after you go change. You look like the rest of the Divas. You think Don wants to see you look like them? Wants to see you look like you woman" Scott said and for the first time since he'd walked in the dark green eyes flashed with intelligence. Sam stood obediently and walked to her room, a fact that made Randy see red. Did she have some kind of complex that she just obeyed drunken older men? If he got drunk would the same thing happen? "Don" she started and Scott waved his hand, "Yeah, after" Sam closed the door to her bedroom and they could both her hear humming lightly under her breath.

Scott promptly ignored him, put his feet on the table, took another sip of the flask and drew out a phone. He dialled a number and held it to his ear, making a 'shut up' gesture at Randy. "Hey asshole" Don's heavy, deep voice could be heard on the other end of the line, making Randy's fists clench so tight the knuckles were white. "No. You're the asshole. Wasn't me left her in tears. Nah she's okay. She's good. I'm making her change. Cause her outfit was godawful man, thats why. No listen homeboy, you stop telling her she looks good in any old thing cause she doesn't. She looked like Kelly fricking Kelly and I got no need to barf this early in the night". There was a laugh on the other end of the line and Scott settled deeper into the chair, "Yeah no I met him. Yeah he is a prick" Scott looked up from the phone, met Randy's furious baby blues, mouthed "no offence" at him and went back to it. Sam could be heard finishing up in the bedroom. "She's about done, you wanna speak to her?" Sam stepped out of the bedroom and heard the last part of the conversation. She bit her lower lip, "Is that Don?" she asked and Don could hear the quaver in her voice. It cut him up when she asked, "Does he want to speak to me?". Of course he did. He wanted to speak to her every minute of the day. Scott beat him to it, "Does he want to speak to me?" he mimicked in a passable imitation of Sam's sad sounding tones, "Get a hold of yourself woman. You sound like freaking Sable, does he love me? Does he not? shall I go and get a whole entire boob job? How about you just suck it up and show this asshole on the end of the phone exactly what he's missing?" Don could hear Sam laugh, the happy trickle of the sound down the phone line.

Razor watched the question in her eyes. Don had called him up in the wee hours, told him he'd do anything if Scott would go see Sammy. Scott didnt need asking twice. He genuinely liked Sam but the urgency in Don's voice was something new. Don had told him exactly what he was thinking, what he'd done, what his plans were and Scott approved with every single one of them. would feel the same fear if he were in Don's place. What Don was doing wrong was not telling Sammy, cause it was damn sure as hell there in her face she wouldn't leave Don even if Randy Orton surgically joined her to him. But Don has asked him to come, because he knew he'd fucked up with Sammy, had a feeling she'd be down and he wanted someone to cheer her up. Scott felt kinda flattered he could bring a smile to her face. Randy leant over and snapped the phone shut, closing off the call. Don picked up the offending thing and threw it against the wall angrily. Scott stared at his hand, in which the phone was now closed with a look of drunken suprise on his face. Sam got right in Randy's face. Now she wouldn't know until NXT whether she and Don were still...well...she and Don. She didnt get to hear whether Don wanted to talk to her, whether he was ok. She'd had that taken away. "I was going to talk to him!" she exclaimed. "And you can't" Randy told her angrily, looking away from the hurt eyes. "Your clause says you can only talk to him at events, like tonight" She fumed silently as Razor stood, "Aint nothing in that clause that says good old buddies cant come over and spend some time with her though is there Mr...hell boy what you say your name was?" Randy refused to rise to the bait, "See I know there ain't nothing like that in that contract cause Don and me have a copy of it. So I'm gonna spend my time with Sammy if you don't mind. If Sammy's cool with that" Scott said, glancing her way. She beamed.


	13. Chapter 13

Scott Hall was one greasy, sleazy asshole but he'd managed to do in a few hours what Randy hadn't been able to do in the past three days and put a smile back on Sam's face. He glanced across at her as he pulled into the parking lot. She was sat next to him in the passenger seat, singing loudly, badly he might add, to Journey's 'Faithfully', including miming the guitar solos on her own, now tapping out the drums on the dashboard. Sam glanced at him and sung the next line right in his ear. He wished she wouldn't do that, all he could feel was her cool breath and the closeness of her body next to his, but then she was gone, back to air-guitaring. He couldn't help smiling at her, even if she was frustrating the crap out of him. Randy parked and climbed out, adjusting his jeans. Damn Razor.

Sam came around the side of the car with her hands free. Randy would have to get in the ring to coach his rookie, Sam would hang around the outside of the ring. Her outfit, as Randy watched her tap the hood of the car to the tune in her head, was uniquely Sam. She had dark blue denim jeans on, cut off just under her knee by suede boots with fringing hanging from them. The top was a torn men's t shirt displaying The Eagles on the front. Sam had torn it to show her cleavage and at some point she'd managed to drape herself in necklaces. Bracelets crept up her arm, her makeup was barely there compared to before, just bright red lips and the clear sparkling eyes. Gold aviators hung off her t shirt. She looked like a rocker who'd accidentally fallen into Woodstock, an effect that was slightly ruined by the Journey song she was continuing to sing out loud now. John Morrison was on his way in to look after his rookie, glancing over at the sound of someone murdering the band. He grinned at Sam and waved. She gave him a mock salute back and turned to see Randy. "Come on slowcoach, are we going in or not? I thought Mr Orton had to give his rookie a pep talk?". He shouldered his bag and fell into step beside her. Scott hadn't even talked that much to her but he'd managed to change the depressed Sam back to what she'd always been. Had given her a pep talk about not showing Don she couldnt cope without him, but being the confident little cow he'd fallen in love with and then pretended to throw up. Sam had brained him with his own flask.

Walking in the building, they were accosted by Matthews, who waggled his ever present clipboard at them and told them Creative had called a meeting regarding the storylines for the rookies. Sam blew air out of her cheeks dramatically as Randy agreed they'd be there. "Sam?" he said, watching as she proceeded to hum her way along the hallway. She turned mid hum and raised an eyebrow. He tried not to look at the deep cleavage shown in the t shirt, "I'm glad you're happier" he said truthfully. Sam gave him an honest to goodness smile he hadn't seen since they started tag teaming. "You're welcome. I feel better" she announced, then unable to resist she added, "Course I'd feel a lot better still if i had my man with me" she added. Randy rolled his eyes. "You get to see him tonight don't you?" Sam beamed, but the smile wobbled. "Yeah...you think we're still... you know?" she asked, then remembered she was asking Randy Orton, not really the best person to be asking under the circumstances. He responded with a glare, which was cut short as they turned into the room where Creative was holding their meeting.

Randy carried his ring bag to the middle of the room, cut three in from the edge and placed his bag on the floor, threw his towel on the chair next to him for Sam. Turns to look for her and sees John Morrison clap his eyes on her again. Morrison's singing the same Journey song, louder than the usual hubbub in the room and sings to her "When you're lost in deep despair...". Right on cue Sam sings back, "You just ask the lonely!". And then she turns when she hears the deepest, richest laughter she's heard in days.

Don is sat at the back of the room, in the last row, slouched back against the seat with his legs slunk out either side. A ring bag is thrown up on the seat next to him and he leans forward now, dark eyes on her. Sam looks back at him. The amount of people coming into the room jostles her forward and she loses sight of Don, Randy stands and physically tugs her into the seat next to him. Sam's still looking behind her, until Morrison says something to her and she grins, turns to him. Don's eyes remain on her, ignores whatever shit Creative is saying, ignores Stephanie waving at him, ignores Dave trying to take a seat next to him. Sam turns in her seat, ignores Randy talking to her. Meets the eyes looking right at her. Remembering Razor's words, she blows Don a kiss and turns back around with a mock paying attention look on her face.

Don has to look down, hiding his smirk. Runs his hands through his hair. Razor came through. She's more full of attitude than the night he met her and she's enough to make a dead man hard. Scratches at his whiskers, its in her eyes, right at the back that she's wondering if he'd left for good when he walked out the door.

Creative finishes and he stands to talk to Sammy, but Dave at his side is blocking him, showing him his rookie, whom Don's barely seen. Doesn't give a damn about him. Some jumped up punk riding on his father's money. Again. Dave is speaking to him and Sammy's slipping past, Randy tugging on her gently to get her out of the door, throwing him a black look as they leave. Randy and Don have rookies fighting each other and Randy's rookie is staring at Don so hard it makes him want to punch the crap out of the little punk. When Sammy leaves he focuses on Dave, "What? What shit are you on about? Worse than my old woman" he spits. Dave sighs, "You didnt hear a word Don. I said you look better". And Don did, Dave thought. The gaunt and hollow tones in his 45 year old face were a little better, the eyes weren't so faded but brilliant and glittering once more. He'd seen in the change room before that Don was cut, ripped better than he'd been in years. There was something Don was gunning for, something more than just getting through these 30 days. One of the trainers had said Don had taken over the ring for practice for 5 hours straight today.

The time up to their match passes quickly, Sam bouncing up and down like a kitten on crack in their dressing room. Randy is talking to the rookie, telling him he better not mess up and coaching the guy. Sam's glossing her lips, having a conversation with Morrison, who for some reason is shadowing her tonight. He's telling her about Don taking up the ring for so long and she's asking him how he's doing, did he look okay? Morrison replies and Randy pauses in the middle of coaching the rookie to glare at him. Is there one area of his life that Don won't creep in on? All he has to do is get through today, let Sam see Don and then he has the next 25 days to work on her, to show her what Don's like. Let Don fuck it up. just once.

When their match comes Randy, Sam and the rookie head down the ramp to Randy's music. Sam eyes the pyro with bright eyes, points it out to Randy and comments about it and he knows its just for show because the camera's on them. But she's looking at him with friendship again, as if Razor has managed to wipe out the hurt of the past few days. So maybe he can thank Scott after all. The rookie is pepped up and slides into the ring. Don's music hits and Sam looks up from under her eyelashes to the entrance, where the rookie comes through first and then Don's hand is heavy on his shoulders, slamming him back in front of everyone and warning him never, ever, listen up fuckwit I aint gonna say this more than once, you never cut in front of me unless you want your balls separate from you. She can see the anger sparking in his eyes, looking round at the crowd. There's one old woman who absolutely adores Don. Hates the shit out of Sammy and he looks for the old bint now. She's stood leaning over the ramp, walking stick and all. She's the only fan Don ever acknowledges. He taps her knuckles, wrinkled and arthritic. "I saw you dumped that shrew" she hisses in his ear. Don shakes his head, "My Sammy? You got dementia woman. I ain't never gonna dump Sammy. Gonna marry her" he tells her and the old woman about has a heart attack, going purple and streaming curses at Don as he slopes down the ramp. Sam wants to know why he's laughing, a white grin in the deep tan lines of his face. It stops dead as he reaches the ramp, slides in between the ropes with the rookie and looks bored as the dead when the rookie does his thing. As soon as he can Don's out.

Randy's on one side of the ring, Sam sat down on the seats near the announcer's table. Randy is stood near her as he backs up and gestures to the rookie. Don ignores his completely and leans against the fence near Sam, knows she's looking up. His knuckles brush the fence right next to her, ignoring the fan yelling at him to move. "Hey pretty lady". Sam's attitude is all brash and arrogance as she looks up, "Hey old man". He leans back against the fence, looks down at the top of her dark little head. She looks up and sees his eyes, the hollows are fading and he looks better than he has in months. She bites her lip. Don drops his eyes down, lets them roam over her curves, over the long lines of sweeping curves of her thighs, her hips and along the wavy tresses of her hair. "You look good" she tells him and Don smirks, dimples at the side of his mouth. "I got me a plan Sammy" he replies and she bites her lip again. Don ignores the camera near them and King gesturing he shouldn't draw attention to himself and Sammy. The crowd are more watching Don and Sam rather than Randy and the rookies. Don couldnt give a fuck.

"Spill" he says, sitting down next to her. There's a husky sound to his voice and he can't take his eyes off her. Sam can't take hers off him, as if she's storing up every nuance of his face to keep it when they split tonight. "I'm trying to be all confident and arrogant" she instructs Don, who fights to keep the smile off his face at her words, "But I want to know one thing first". Gestures with his hand, she can know anything she wants. Sammy knows that. "Are we still...I mean, you left the other ni..." Randy turns round, stops dead in the middle of speaking to the rookie. He knew it. He knew Don had been in the hotel room. Nothing would have made Sammy cry like that unless it was Don. His brow furrows as he swears at the rookie, almost reduces the poor guy to tears. He knows just how to stop this shit.

"I know it was you that called Scott but are we..." she bites her lip for the third time and Don's gonna do it himself if she keeps it up. Leans forward and tips a finger under her chin, knocks it up to him. He's all grizzly whiskers and shadowed eyes in the light from the titantron. There are veins standing out in his hands and his rookie is screaming out for Don to slide in the ring and help like he's scripted to. "Sammy" and Don's voice is gravelly, gruff and growling and it sends chills. He wants to tell her, wants to tell her then what he's got planned, wants to tell her he'd walk through fire, listen to Orton for hours just to be near her. But now isn't the time to come out with all the romantic shit. Right now he just needs to let Sammy know. So he leans in, closes the distance between them and slips his hands under her jaw and kisses her. No-one is paying attention to the ring and Don's rookie is screaming so hard his 19 year old voice is cracking. "Yes" Don whispers against her forehead, kissing that too. "Don't ever doubt that Sammy". And Sammy forgets she's a Diva, out on international television, because she hugs him tightly, folds her arms around him and hugs everything she can reach.

After a long moment, after Randy starts to stalk over to them, trying to play it cool for the cameras, after Lawler is yelling at them to split because Vince is screaming in the earpieces, when the rookie starts to climb out of the ring, Don smooths his fingers down her arms and tells her to let go. She does. Don strips off his shirt and slides into the ring. As he's stood ripping the rookie a new asshole Sam comes to the edge of the ring and looks at him. He's ripped. He's always been in shape but he's chiselled. The muscles in his arms are so perfectly defined she's aching to run her hands along them. The dark hairs on his chest are interrupted by the white bandage over his wound from surgery, but he's moving like he hasn't done in years and she's so proud she forgets she's Randy's for the month and is calling out for Don and his rookie. Randy is furious, snapping at his rookie so hard outside the ring that Sam can see him physically biting the inside of his cheeks to keep him still. Finally the rookie climbs into the ring and locks up with the other one. Don ends up helping his rookie to the win, tripping the other one up on the ropes.


End file.
